


A Time of Our Own

by LadyJaneGrey92



Series: Vicbourne Christmas Stories [3]
Category: Victoria (TV), Victoria ITV
Genre: Angst, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Eventual Smut, F/M, Foreplay, Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Spanking, Vicbourne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaneGrey92/pseuds/LadyJaneGrey92
Summary: New year is fast approaching, and Victoria has but one wish--to ring in the new year with Lord M.  Alone together.  In secret.  When her dashing Prime Minister accepts her invitation, is it an evening made in heaven, or a recipe for disaster?This is a story to celebrate the new year.  Hope you enjoy it!
Relationships: William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne & Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901), William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne/Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901)
Series: Vicbourne Christmas Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571785
Comments: 140
Kudos: 111





	1. A Brisk Winter Ride

**Author's Note:**

> "Till now,  
> I always got by on my own  
> I never really cared until I met you  
> And now it chills me to the bone
> 
> How do I get you alone?"
> 
> ("Alone", Heart 1987)

Chapter 1—A Brisk Winter Ride

Christmas had come, at last, to England. And with it, the cold, sharp winter air that Victoria adored. But Christmas, with all its cozy celebrations had ended, and with it, the end of the year was fast approaching. 

“Winter has its own beauty, does it not Lord M?” She mentioned to her riding partner as they rode out on a fine morning. She was bundled for the adventure with extra woolen skirts beneath her winter riding habit, which was trimmed with ermine at the neck and cuff. Her hat and gloves were lined with the same luxurious fur as well, so that although the air was crisp and cold, she felt toasty warm as her mount crunched his way through the frost upon the ground. “I find the chill most bracing. And the park is lovely when covered thus in snow.”

“I agree, Ma’am,” her companion said, hunched a little in the saddle this morning beneath a long cloak, his top hat pulled low upon his head and a woolen scarf tossed about his throat. His breath misted the morning air as he spoke, and his color was heightened by the temperature, causing two small circles of pink to appear in the apples of his cheeks, and the tips of his ears and nose. His mouth was also pinker than usual, and Victoria was momentarily mesmerized by how very green his eyes looked in contrast, and how handsome her Prime Minister was in general. “Though I do admit, I enjoy the winter landscape most of all when I am admiring it from behind a large window, standing before the fire, with a brandy in my hand.”

Victoria could not stop the fizzing mirth his comment provoked, and threw her head up and laughed into the sky. 

“My dear Lord M! What a good sport you are, to indulge me thus! I do appreciate it.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Let it never be said that I do not put your well-being first in all things, Ma’am. If I may say so, I do hope that I do not catch an ague as a result of this particular indulgence.”

“Oh no you must not! For whatever would I do without you whilst you recover?”

“Might I recommend taking your Uncle Leopold, or in fact several members of the Tory party along on your next winter jaunt, Ma’am? That way, when I recover they will be indisposed, and I shall be spared the sight and sound of them for yet awhile longer.”

Victoria laughed again. “You will not fall ill, Lord M. You are far too strong of constitution for that. And if you do, I shall move you to the palace, and insist upon nursing you back to health myself.”

He gave her an inscrutable look. “You are most kind, Your Majesty. However I do think the Queen might have more important matters to attend to than to nurse her sickly old Prime Minister back to health. Should the need arise, I shall remove to Brocket Hall for my recovery. And spare you the indignity of the interim by my side.”

“It would be no indignity,” she said more solemnly then perhaps she intended. “I should consider it a privilege.”

He snorted derisively. “Privilege indeed. I take it you have never nursed anyone back to health before, Ma’am? I can assure you, the word ‘privilege’ would very shortly exit your list of descriptors for such an occasion. It is a tedious business, to be sure. Not one for so young and vibrant a person as yourself.”

“You think I am not capable?” She said, affronted and a little hurt by the implication.

“No indeed. You are capable of anything you set your mind to, Ma’am. I only say that you would not enjoy the experience perhaps as much as you anticipate that you might.” He looked at her then, eyebrows canted upwards and a wry smile tugging at his lips. 

Victoria noticed that his eyelashes were gilded with snow, and sparkled winningly in the morning light, giving him a cherubic appearance. She wondered, not for the first time, if he were in fact quite aware of the winsome picture he presented, and if he did not look at her thus specifically to soften her to his will. 

Predictably, her pique dissolved when presented with this particular expression of his. Especially as he blinked at her for good measure, showing off his sparkling eyelashes even more.

She sighed. “I think you misjudge me, Lord M, if you think me so frivolous a creature that I cannot care for someone who is ill. Especially when the person in question is very dear. A very dear friend.” She swallowed hard, and this time did not look at him. He read her so easily, after all. And this was swiftly approaching a topic both of them had been carefully avoiding for a long time. 

She could feel his eyes on her though. Could feel the precise moment he turned away again. 

“You flatter me Ma’am. I am most…grateful…to you for the thought. But I hope you will forgive me if I say I very much wish the need will never arise.”

“That makes two of us, Lord M.” She turned and smiled then, and he returned her smile with one of his own, accompanied by such a warm look in his evergreen eyes that she felt as if the winter day must surely have melted into summer around her. 

“You will stay, will you not, and help us celebrate the New Year?” She found herself asking. 

The spell was broken, and the awkwardness between them grew thicker. 

“That is if you don’t already have…plans.” She swallowed hard. “We shall have supper of course. Just the usual household. Then I thought perhaps we could play at cards afterward. And perhaps I might play for you something on the pianoforte. Some…Mozart, perhaps?”

He turned his eyes back to her and she gasped at the warmth in them. But it was a warmth tinged with more sadness than she would like to see there.

“I should like that very much,” he said in a husky tone. “It is a very generous invitation. I thank you most humbly, Ma’am.”

“And…should you accept?” She bit her lip. She should not press him. But she wanted so desperately for him to come. It would be a perfect ending to what had amounted to the happiest year of her life, as well as the beginning of one she anticipated would be even happier—his own self there with her, to mark the change. 

He smiled. “I shall be happy to.”

She smiled in reply. “And…please…would you stay at the palace? In your rooms for the night? Then we might have breakfast together on New Year’s Day.”

“That sounds most agreeable, Ma’am.”

“Good.” 

They walked a little further in that blanketing silence that can only be felt in the deep of winter, when the snowbanks were high and all was still, apart from the crunching of their horses’ hooves beneath them. It was comfortable and easy, and settled around them both like a cloak. It was so pleasant to have a companion that one did not always need to be talking to. That one could just be silent, and feel oneself to be understood and appreciated all the same. 

But Victoria’s thoughts were not as restful. There was one thing she wanted to ask him that she did not know how to ask. But it was the real purpose behind this excursion. To have him quite to herself and alone when she asked it. Finally she steeled her resolve as best she could and addressed it.

“Lord M,” she began. “I would ask you to indulge me in a point further.”

“Yes Ma’am?” He asked, curiosity in his voice.

“I have a wish…and I do not know how to ask it. I guess it is a new year’s wish.”

“Well, the best way to ask a thing is to just…ask, Ma’am. Why does the asking of this particular wish give you so much anxiety?”

“Because I do not know how it will be received.”

They walked a little farther before he replied.

“Are you…that is…is this inquiry for me, or for someone else?”

“For you, of course.”

He huffed a laugh. “Well then, there should be no anxiety, surely? I am not usually wont to receive your requests with a great deal of choler or unpleasantness, am I?”

She turned to look at him, to see the gentle amusement in his eyes. 

“You are teasing me. At a time like this?”

“Me? Teasing you, Ma’am? Never. I wonder how you could think such a thing of me.”

The gentle sarcasm in his voice was not lost on her. “I am in earnest, you know.”

“Very well. I am sorry, Ma’am. What I mean to convey is that I should hope you could ask me anything and feel reasonably secure in the response.”

“With conventional things I do. But this request is rather—unconventional.” She bit her lip.

His eyebrows shot up. “Well…I confess I’m all curiosity, Ma’am. Whatever could your request be? Pray, ask it. And I promise not to behave badly.”

“It is never a question of that. Oh! Very well. I have a bottle or two of very fine brandy, Lord M, that I have set aside for you. And I wish to…that is…I would like very much…to share them with you over New Year’s Eve.”

His face broke out into a rare smile. “Why ever should you be nervous to ask that, Ma’am? You know me well. I love brandy. And the pleasure of your company. This unconventional scheme of yours sounds delightful. I should be glad to accept.”

“Well…yes but…I wish…my wish is that…we should share them…together.”

“Have you developed a taste for brandy, Ma’am?”

“No. You mistake my meaning. I wish…to share them with you…quite alone.”

“Ahh.” He said simply. “I see.”

“Mama, Sir John and the others are quick to retire,” Victoria found herself saying. “I expect they will do so long before midnight, when the old year becomes the new. But you are not an early bird, Lord M. I believe your habits tend to later hours.”

“They have in the past, I do acknowledge it.” 

“Therefore I had hoped…”

“Yes. I think I understand now.” He turned to her. “If we are discovered, of course, you know there will be scandal, Ma’am. The two of us meeting alone to ride out thus in the morning, or go over state affairs in the afternoon is one thing. A monarch has certain privileges in that area that other ladies do not. But a meeting such as you are suggesting, in the dark hours of the night, alone together with bottles of strong spirits…could only be construed negatively by onlookers, I’m afraid.”

“Well. It’s just as well I was not planning to extend an invitation to any onlookers, Lord M.”

He barked a laugh. “Most wise, Ma’am.”

“It will be our secret,” she said in almost a whisper. “But I so long for your company, Lord M. Your wit, your stories and your skill at cards as well. Would it not be pleasant to welcome the new year in such a fashion?”

“Yes it would. It would be most pleasant indeed, Ma’am. I would enjoy it immensely.”

“Then…will you join me, Lord M? Shall we make it a party of just ourselves?”

“A secret rendezvous to celebrate New Year’s together alone?” He turned and looked at her, amusement in his eyes as he sighed. “By God I am a fool. But it sounds far too diverting to refuse. Therefore against all my scruples to the contrary, I accept—on one condition.”

“What?”

“That you allow me to provide some champagne, Ma’am. It is the New Year, after all. And it is only fair, considering you are bringing my favorite drink.”

“If you wish it,” she said, grinning. 

He shook his head back and forth. “No I don’t wish it, Ma’am. I categorically insist.” He flashed her a look of such mischief she laughed again. 

“Then how can I refuse?” she said with a grin, feeling herself glowing on the inside. 

“How shall it come to pass, Ma’am? I know you have a plan.”

She laughed merrily. “I do indeed. We shall retire from the company at half past nine. I shall plead a headache. You shall plead whatever you wish. Once I leave everyone else of course will then retire. We shall then meet together in my sitting room where we shall be quite undiscovered and unchallenged.”

“Your sitting room? In your own apartments?”

“Naturally! No one shall trouble us there. There will be no danger of discovery.”

“Apart from me skulking in corridors and making my way to your private rooms, you mean.”

“Do you wish to meet somewhere else?”

He shook his head. “I’m mad. Truly and completely mad.”

“Lord M?”

“I shall send the champagne on to you ahead with my footman this afternoon, with instructions that it should go directly to you. Take it and place it wherever you have arranged for this. I will excuse myself from the company at nine o’clock on some excuse or other and make my way to your apartments then. You will come along as you can and meet me there.”

“Are you cross with me?”

He gave her a gentle look. “No Ma’am. Never with you. With myself however, I may have some very stern words later.”

“If you do not wish to—”

“Oh, but I do, Ma’am. I do very much wish. That is precisely the problem. I worry that our celebrations will be marred by scandal if we are discovered.”

“Then we shall take the utmost care to see that we are not discovered, Lord M.”

“We must. Ma’am, you must know—if this gets out, it could be ruinous. To more than just my government.”

“I understand Lord M.”

“Do you still wish to go through with it? We could forgo it if you wish.”

“No. I wish to go through with it.” Her eyes met his.

“As do I,” he returned, smiling a little. 

She returned his smile. “Good. Now that’s settled, I feel like a bit of exercise.” She urged her mount into a run, calling over her shoulder, “Catch me if you can, Lord M!”

She heard his muffled curse behind her as he set off in pursuit.


	2. Recital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord M attends dinner at the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You don't know how long I have wanted  
> To touch your lips and hold you tight...  
> You don't know how long I have waited  
> and I was going to tell you tonight  
> But the secret is still my own  
> and my love for you is still unknown..."
> 
> ("Alone", Heart, 1987)

Chapter 2—Recital

She was completely incorrigible, of course.

William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne sighed as he sat in the Queen’s favorite parlor, and allowed himself a moment to lose himself in admiration of the vision before him.

She was so lovely.

She wore a gown of diaphanous blue, spun and wrapped about her shoulders like the gossamer wings of an exotic butterfly. The diamond pins in the dark locks of her hair winked in the candlelight as she bent over the keyboard, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes slightly glazed as her hands flew over the keys.

She became music when she played this way.

It flowed from her heart into her fingers, and thence outward into them all, imbuing her audience with all the fervor and excitement and vigor of her youth and indomitable spirit. Indeed, Time itself seemed to shudder to a halt, to hold its relentless, marching breath, so rapt in the attention of her recital that it refused to continue unabated. It was one of those moments—one of many, if he were honest—where Melbourne felt as though everything he’d ever worked and struggled for had paid off immeasurably. To find himself here, in his young queen’s presence, an intimate guest for this performance—yes. He would do it all again, simply for this moment alone.

Mozart had never sounded better.

As her hands slowed on the keys and the music came to a dignified denouement, Melbourne drew a ragged breath. He had been wholly unaware that he had been holding it for the last several moments, so deeply had he been caught up in her performance.

As if he needed another reason to love her.

The room broke into polite applause, himself included, as he watched her blink her sapphire blue eyes to clear her own spell. Her eyes rose directly to his, as if he were the only person present beside herself, and she favored him with a smile of such sweetness he could have wept. He returned her smile, indulging himself in forgetting for a moment that she was Queen, and he was Prime Minister, and they were in a room filled with her relatives and courtiers. When she looked at him like that, he was always hard pressed to remember anything at all outside of how his heart sang with profound and utter joy.

Yes, completely incorrigible, he thought as she left her piano and sailed straight for him, fairly ignoring everyone else in the room. He lowered his eyes and his head in deference at her approach. He should chastise her, of course. Such noted favor for himself was wholly inappropriate. He should remind her that he was not her only guest, or in fact audience. That it was perhaps not seemly for a monarch to pay her Prime Minister such marked and open attention.

But damned if he could make himself.

“There you are, Lord M!” She said brightly. “Did I do him justice this evening?”

He smiled, his eyes still trained down towards his own shoes. “I believe Mozart himself would be most impressed, Ma’am, at your skill.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do not pay the compliment lightly, Ma’am, as I think you should know.” He looked up at her to find her blue eyes dancing. Indeed, he thought, she loved to hear him praise her accomplishments as much as he enjoyed bestowing compliments on her.

“You do not forget our later engagement?” she whispered close to his collar. “I have set aside a very rare and particularly delectable brandy for your enjoyment.”

He smiled and nodded his acknowledgment, biting back hard on the thought of how much he might enjoy said brandy when tasted from her own lips. Of how he should like to dip his finger into the glass, paint her parted lips with it, and suck her mouth clean with his own….

His eyes fell inevitably to her mouth. He coughed a little.

This would not do, he admonished himself sternly. He must keep himself in check. He must never forget who she was…who he was…

But oh, once the thought had arisen it was hard to take back again, and therefore his eyes returned to her lips again and again, thinking nothing could ever be so delectable as her perfect little mouth dripping with brandy, parted as she breathlessly awaited his kiss…

“No Ma’am, I have not forgotten,” he whispered. “Did you receive my contribution?”

“I did.” She smiled. “I cannot wait.”

Nor could he, he thought, and coughed again. “Perhaps I should…take my leave now,” he heard himself say a little hoarsely. “Then perhaps we can hasten our other appointment.”

“True,” she acknowledged, her smile broadening. “Very well then.”

“I think you should protest a little, Ma’am,” he whispered. “Make my departure more convincing.”

“But Lord M!” She said, in a loud and petulant voice. “Surely you are not leaving us! Not when it is so early still!”

“I fear I must, in fact, Your Majesty,” he said loud and clear, laughing uproariously inside the privacy of his own mind at the brief snatch of a glimpse he caught of the Duchess’s relieved face. “I have stayed quite longer than I planned already and surely, on New Year’s Eve, you would wish to spend your time with family, without the interference of outsiders such as myself.”

“But you are not an outsider, Lord M! You are my dear friend and a guest of mine!”

It was too good, this game. One they enjoyed far too frequently for prudence. But it was irresistible nonetheless.

She was irresistible.

“I thank you for the compliment, Ma’am, but really I fear I must go. I thank you most sincerely for the dinner Ma’am, and for the privilege of hearing you play so beautifully. But I am feeling rather fatigued. So I must take my leave of you now.”

“Very well, Lord M. In that case I bid you an early Happy New Year.”

“And to you yourself, Ma’am.” And with that, he dropped to his knee and lightly kissed the knuckles of her outstretched hand in courtly fashion. He stood, and bowed to the room in general, taking his leave. He turned, in time to hide his laughter. Victoria really was good at this game. He could hear her voice chasing himself down the corridor. With her in such a mood, he thought, the room should clear out quickly, bringing on their interlude sooner.

As soon as he was out of sight of her parlour, he turned his steps, heart fluttering like a school boy and made for the Queen’s private apartments to await her pleasure.


	3. Listen to Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M finally put their plan into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile  
> The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yea  
> They're swept away and nothing is what is seems,  
> The feeling of belonging to your dreams
> 
> Listen to your heart--  
> When he's calling for you  
> Listen to your heart--  
> There's nothing else you can do  
> I don't know where you're going, and I don't know why,  
> But listen to your heart--  
> Before you tell him goodbye..."  
> ("Listen to Your Heart", Roxette, 1988)

Chapter 3—Listen to Your Heart

Victoria tried to slow her steps and the beating of her heart as she made her way towards her private apartments. The time after he had left had felt endless, and it had taken her longer than expected to work up the nerve to make a convincing show of going to bed, but in the end she had been successful. It seemed as though all present had accepted her excuse of tiredness, and the whole party had left the parlour with the expressed intent of retiring for the evening. And so at long last, the time she had waited for all day had finally arrived.

She entered the room, with her heart in her throat to find Lord M seated before the fire, little Dash in his lap. She drew a deep breath in and turned to lock the door behind her hurriedly. Dash, upon seeing his mistress, leaped to attention, and launched himself towards Victoria, tail wagging madly. Victoria allowed him to follow her as she quickly crossed into her own chamber, to the door she shared with Lehzen, and bolted that too. Then she stopped to coo over Dash, petting and kissing him and ruffling his ears affectionately, enough that Dash was content finally to find his bed before the fire in her chambers beyond.

She then turned her attention back to her sitting room, to the man who waited for her. Half obscured in shadow and half illuminated in firelight, he stood and crossed the room to her, dropping to his knees before her. His hand touched hers, warm from his place near the fire, and his lips grazed her knuckle. Her eyes closed. She longed to have his lips linger there. Longed to have him hold her hand longer. But in truth this time he did seem to linger thus, a few seconds longer. And when she opened her eyes, it was to see him gazing up at her with a smile, still holding her hand, his expression unreadable, but warming her nonetheless.

“Ma’am,” he whispered.

“Lord M,” she said, finding her voice at last.

“You have escaped your relatives at last, I see.” He stood once again, gazing down at her with amusement.

The spell broke, and they were themselves again.

“Yes,” she sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Mama could not stop herself lecturing me longer about my cousin, Albert. It was all I could do to keep my countenance. I could not have borne a second longer without screaming. But at last I was able to convince them that I was tired and we should all retire.”

“Has everyone retired?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

He chuckled. “I take it you are not favorably inclined towards viewing your cousin as a potential husband then.”

She gave him a look that made him chuckle harder.

“Albert is the last man alive I should want to marry,” she said, dropping into the waiting wingback chair near his own. “You know this very well.”

“And cousin George?” He prompted, setting her glass in front of her. He had found the ice bucket, filled already with ice and the two champagne bottles he had sent her that she had secreted under the skirted table in the corner He placed this on the table between them, removed one bottle and popped its cork, filling her glass almost to the brim.

“Cousin George cares even less for me than I do for him, which is considerable. Do save some for yourself, Lord M,” she laughed as she watched him pour. “I don’t need the whole bottle, surely?”

He picked the glass up by its delicate stem and handed it to her. “Why not? There is another bottle after all. And as you have observed there is no one here to cast judgment upon you tonight. And as your chamber only through those doors, I think a little indulgence is safe.”

“That is enough indulgence to have me asleep in less than half an hour.” She set the glass down again and went to a nearby cupboard. “As promised…here is yours. Happy New Year, Lord M.”

He looked up and smiled. “Ahh. Cognac. My favorite. Thank you very much indeed Ma’am!” He accepted both bottles with a smile on his face.

“Shall I pour for you as generously as you did for me?” She said as she popped its cork into the brandy glass she had procured. When the glass was half full, she stopped. A drop of brandy fell onto her fingers as she lifted the bottle, and she popped it into her mouth indelicately. “Mmm, I must say that is good.” She put her finger back in her mouth quite thoughtlessly, lost in the fruity aroma the drink had produced on her tongue.

She raised her eyes to him to find his gaze fixed on her mouth, a very curious expression on his face.

She removed her finger hastily. Brandy, after all, was a gentleman’s drink. “Do you think me ill-mannered to be tasting your gift thus, Lord M? I am sorry.”

“Not at all…Ma’am,” he said somewhat huskily, his eyes rising slowly from her mouth to her eyes. “The Queen is never ill-mannered.”

His eyes were huge in the semi-darkness of the room, the curious expression still stamped openly on his features. Without knowing how she knew, Victoria felt as if she were seeing something forbidden. Her Prime Minister’s face was so often well-schooled. But tonight, his face was an open book to her, stamped with some deep feeling she could not put a name to.

If only she knew how to read it.

Somehow the atmosphere in the room had grown close, the ease between them had evaporated and been replaced by a tension she could not identify. It was as if the very air felt charged, as with lightening. She had not displeased him, she reflected. He seemed very happy to be here, and in possession of the finest brandy she could source. No. It was something else. Something she could not name.

“Shall we have a toast?” She said, striving to keep her voice neutral, to put them back on familiar, comfortable footing again. “To friendship.”

He lifted one eyebrow rather ironically, and the tense moment evaporated as his face became once again familiar to her. He gave her his sideways smile, his eyes again brimming with warmth.

“To our friendship, Ma’am.” He raised his glass and clinked it against hers.

She sipped her champagne, the cool, frothy, bubbly drink so pleasing in her mouth. She savored the first mouthful of it as she watched him swirl his brandy, sniff it and then, taste. His eyes closed in rapture as her champagne made it finally down her throat, pooling warmly in her belly.

“It is very fine, Ma’am. I am most grateful to you for the lovely gift.”

“As am I, to you, Lord M,” she said, sipping not at all daintily from her glass again, provoking him to smile as he in turn, watched her enjoy his own gift.

“Does it meet with your approval, Ma’am?”

“Oh it does indeed. Perfectly so.”

“So does this. You truly know how to make your Prime Minister very happy, Ma’am.”

“Good. I’m glad of it. For I expect you to go on being my Prime Minister for a very long time, Lord M.”

“I am happy to serve in any way I can. For as long as it suits you.”

“Then plan on a very long career indeed!”

He laughed so he almost snorted. “Well. Tell that to the Tories, Ma’am. I doubt somehow they will agree with you.”

“But the Tories are not Queen. And they do not know you as I do. Therefore I do not give a fig for what they think.”

“You should Ma’am. They are, after all, your subjects as well. And they have a great deal to say about how long I go on serving you, I’m afraid.”

“But why should I care for them, when they contain the likes of my uncle Cumberland, and Mama, and Sir John Conroy among their ranks!”

“Do not forget they also count Wellington among their own. And you do care for him, do you not?”

“Of course I do. He is a great hero.”

“There you are. For his sake then, if not for your uncle Cumberland.”

“Does he give you much trouble?”

“Who, Cumberland?”

“No. I know full well he is troublesome. I meant The Iron Duke.”

“Ah. Well. Politically we do not see eye to eye, of course. But I have no personal feelings against the man. I daresay I could overlook his failings to find something to admire.” He gazed at her a moment. “But I fear political talk is not entirely suitable for this occasion, Ma’am. Perhaps we could discuss these more mundane matters under different circumstances.”

“Agreed, Lord M. There are always the dispatches after all.”

“Quite so, Ma’am.”

“This is far more pleasant.”

“Indeed it is.”

“I was so nervous about asking you, you know. I was afraid you would chastise me very severely.”

“I confess I should have. We have both taken a great risk here tonight, Ma’am.”

“Oh I am so unspeakably tired of risks! And scandals! And all the busy-bodies that surround me. I tire of them all! Why can I not spend time with who I wish to, when and where I please?”

“Well, to some degree you can indulge yourself occasionally, Ma’am, under the right circumstances and with the right people. Provided you act with discretion of course.”

“I am tired of that too.”

“I know Ma’am. It must all feel very limiting to you.”

“It does. I have spent my whole life being told what to do! With someone else always controlling me—where I go, who I see, what I read even—oh, Lord M. How I long to be free!” She downed the rest of her glass and reached for the bottle.

“Well, I would say you’ve succeeded quite nicely, Ma’am, in exerting your will this evening. I am here, after all. And here we sit—alone together, in the semi-darkness, over excellent drinks—ready to celebrate the new year. Together and in secret.” He smiled at her.

“Yes I have succeeded, haven’t I? And you are very sweet to indulge me so.”

“No indeed, for I cannot think of anywhere else I should rather be than here at this moment.”

Her eyes met his. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

They shared a smile between them. It was marvelous. They were like co-conspirators, Victoria reflected. Oh, how dearly she loved her Lord M!

“Shall we play a game?” She asked, sipping at her second glass. He was truly so very handsome. The way the firelight caressed his features, brought the strong panes of his face into sharp relief. Made his eyelashes glow. She could sit and admire him all evening. How pleasant that she was now free to do so at her leisure?

“Cards?”

“No. I want to play a different sort of game.”

“Your Majesty,” he said, brows arching, “You have about you a spark of mischief this evening I find most disconcerting.”

“Mischief! Lord M! How could you suggest such a thing?”

“Oh I don’t know, Ma’am. Perhaps the brandy is affecting me already.”

“Never. Your blood is at least fifty percent brandy to begin with.”

“Fifty? Only fifty? Well then. Only one remedy for that.” He took another drink.

Victoria giggled. “Really Lord M! I believe I am not the only one feeling mischievous this evening!”

“Perhaps not. Secret meetings always bring out the mischief in me, I confess. So. If you do not wish to play at cards, what shall we play, then?”

“A game of questions and answers.”

“Oh?” His brows shot up again.

“I shall ask you a question, and you shall answer. And if I do not think you are telling the truth, I shall give you a task to perform as your punishment.”

He nodded, considering. “How about after you ask me your question, and I answer, you have to tell me whether or not it is true. And after you guess as to its veracity, I will then tell you if you are correct. If you have guessed correctly, the turn passes to me, with no punishments given. If your surmise is incorrect, you shall have a punishment.”

“But that only punishes the questioner, not the respondent. That won’t do at all.”

“Very well. If you ask me a question and I lie, then I will receive a punishment of your choice. If you guess incorrectly, you shall receive a punishment of my choice.”

“I see. And what if you lie and I guess incorrectly?”

“Than we punish each other.”

Victoria locked eyes with her Prime Minister, who pulled a face. And they both collapsed into giggles.

“I suddenly don’t know about this game!”

“It was your idea after all!”

“But you have made it worrisome.”

“How about this then. If I lie, I have to drink. And if you guess incorrectly, you receive a punishment. And then the turn passes.”

“I am not at all sure about this game now, Lord M!”

“Do you trust me, Ma’am?”

She looked at him, half bathed in firelight and half in shadows. Did she trust him? Yes—with her life. But did his proposition frighten her a little? Yes, it did.

“Yes I do. I trust you more than any other person I have ever known.”

He smiled. “And I trust you. Therefore we are entirely safe with one another. And there is nothing to fear.”

She nodded. “Very well. I accept.”

“Go on then, Ma’am. Ask me your first question.”


	4. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Lord M come up with a most interesting game to amuse themselves. But will it get out of hand?
> 
> *HEAT ADVISORY*  
> Foreplay ahead. NSFW...  
> (Oh yeah...and there could be bit of spanking...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The world was on fire and no one could save me but you  
> It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
> I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you...  
> I'd never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you...
> 
> What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way...  
> What a wicked thing to do to make me dream of you..."  
> ("Wicked Game", Chris Isaac, 1990)
> 
> "Experience slips away...  
> The innocence slips away..."  
> ("Time Stand Still, Rush, 1987)

Chapter 4—Truth or Dare

“One more thing,”Victoria said suddenly. “If I ask you a question, and you do not wish to answer, then what?”

“Then I will accept a punishment instead, for not answering.”

“And how then shall we discover a winner?”

“You shall receive a point for every correct guess, and lose a point for every punishment received.”

“Very well…I think that makes sense. What does the winner then receive?”

“A boon from the other. Which must be granted.”

“I accept.” She said smiling.

“Ready then?”

“Ready.”

“First question then.” He leaned up a little in his chair, eyes very dark, and a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth—daring her. “Ask me anything, Ma’am. I am ready for you.”

“What is the strangest dream you have ever had, Lord M?”

“Hmm,” he said, sitting back and considering. “The strangest dream I ever had…was when I was fifteen. And I dreamed that I sailed with Columbus to the new world, and fell off the edge because it was flat.” He turned and arched an eyebrow at her in challenge.

Victoria giggled, then set to her task. She looked hard at Lord M, at the shifting of light on his face. She had become rather good at reading his expressions—well, most of them.

“Truth,” she pronounced decisively.

He inclined his head. “Very good, Ma’am.”

“Really, Lord M? You sailed off the edge of the world in your dream?” She giggled.

“I did indeed. It was most unpleasant. The sensation of falling into a field of stars woke me up. I sat up in my bed drenched in cold sweat, and did not go back to sleep for the whole of the night.”

“Well now. It is your turn to ask something of me then.”

“Very well.” His eyes narrowed on her speculatively, as he tilted his head to one side. “If you could get away with anything at all, Ma’am, what would you do?”

“You mean like crime, Lord M?”

“I mean anything. No matter how naughty, illegal or not. What would it be?”

She cast a look at him. Then looked down at her own lap.

“I would leave the palace unaccompanied, and become an ordinary woman for just one day.” She said flatly.

He leaned back, steepling his fingers together, considering.

“Lie.”

“What?”

“Not that you would not like to act as you have described, but if you could get away with anything, I do not believe that is what you would choose to do.”

“What should I choose to do, then?” She sat and waited. Would he guess? She hardly dared guess herself, though she knew what the true answer would be.

He shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know. Only that you just lied to me.”

“Correct,” she said. “However did you know?”

“That is one secret I shall never tell,” he said with a grin. “Drink, Ma’am.”

She took a great swig of her champagne. It tickled as it slid down her throat.

“My turn again. What would you do, Lord M, if you could walk about unseen? Be completely invisible?”

“Hmm…well…I suppose I should slip into the Tories club and spy on all their plans to take down my government.” He gave her that patented little grin. The one he always gave her when he was teasing her. Then he cocked one eyebrow at her ever so slightly, as if daring her reply.

She smiled broadly. “Lie.”

Both his eyebrows flew quite up to his hairline, and he huffed a laugh in genuine surprise. “How the devil did you guess that?”

“Like you, I have my own secrets. Drink, Lord M.”

“With pleasure, Ma’am.” He finished off his glass and poured another. “Very well then. My turn again. Your Majesty, if you could snap your fingers and get anything you want, what would you want?”

“For you to be my Prime Minister forever.”

He sighed. “Truth.”

“Does the thought displease you so?”

“Only the prospect of the work it will entail.” He smiled ruefully at her. “Well?”

“You are incorrect. And so now I get to punish you.”

“What? What is the answer then?”

Again she was delighted to note genuine surprise in his face. But she was not about to answer that one. Not out loud. “There is no clause that says we have to answer a second question at all truthfully.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “For your punishment, I wish for you to sing to me, Lord M.”

He ran a hand through his hair in an adorable show of distress.

“Sing to you, Ma’am? Whuh…but whatever shall I sing?”

“How about…‘Greensleeves’? For it is quite one of my favorites. You do remember the words, do you not?”

He huffed a laugh again.

“Yes, but I cannot recall the tune.”

“Come now, Lord M. This will never do. These are your rules, after all. And now you prevaricate? I know very well that you know the song, for you have often told me it is one of your favorites too.”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Very well, Your Majesty.”

“I shall start you off…” she hummed the first few bars.

“Ma’am…I am no singer.”

“Yes you are. For I have heard you sing, and your voice is most pleasing, though you always refuse to do it. Now that you are in my power, I wish for you to sing for me again. Only for me. After all, there is no one else here.”

“No,” he said with a soft smile. “There is not.”

“Very well then.” She arched her eyebrows expectantly.

He took a deep breath and gave her a rueful smile. Then began to sing:

_“Alas, my love, you do me wrong_

_To cast me off discourteously_

_For I have loved you well and long_

_Delighting in your company_

_Greensleeves was all my joy_

_Greensleeves was my de-light_

_Greensleeves was my heart of gold_

_And who but my lady greensleeves?_

_Your vows you've broken, like my heart_

_Oh, why did you so enrapture me?_

_Now I remain in a world apart_

_But my heart remains in captivity…”_

Victoria sighed, and leaned quite back into her wingback chair, losing herself in his rich, full tenor, and the beauty of the minor notes in the ancient tune. Was there any greater bliss than this? She gazed at Lord M over the rim of her champagne glass, bathed in firelight, his face lost in the melancholy lyrics as he sang through the chorus again. His voice was pure felicity—both masculine and gentle, like the man himself. She could think of nothing she should like so much in the world but to curl up with him every night, and have him sing her thus to sleep.

_“I have been ready at your hand_

_To grant whatever you would crave_

_I have both wagered life and land_

_Your love and good-will for to have._

_Greensleeves was all my joy_

_Greensleeves was my de-light_

_Greensleeves was my heart of gold_

_And who but my lady greensleeves?”_

She closed her eyes in rapture. It was simply too delightful. How she had dreamed of being able to convince him to sing to her again sometime, after once hearing him singing “God Save the Queen” to her on her coronation day. And how pleasant to have removed all other interference and have a private concert, all to herself. If she could have, she should have willed him to sing more, over and again. Even should she ever again be successful in coaxing him to do so, she should never tire of the sound of his voice.

She clapped lightly as he finished.

“Mmm, very nice,” she said, sighing as his voice came to a halt. “I think I have found a favorite punishment, for I should never grow tired of you singing to me, Lord M. You have such a lovely voice.”

When she opened her eyes, she found him regarding her dryly.

“What?”

He nodded. “Nothing, Ma’am. Just looking forward to your first punishment, is all. Drink.”

“I shall never be sorry. No matter what punishment you dream up for me.”

“Good. You just keep thinking that, Ma’am, whilst you’re doing it. Ask me your question.” He laid back in his chair, his elbow resting against it’s arm, and propped his face up with his hand.

“I did not know that singing made you so hostile, Lord M!”

“It brings out the worst in my nature, I do admit. Therefore punish me with great care, next time Ma’am. Lest you receive the same treatment at my hands.”

“I assure you that I shall still count it was well worth it. You sing so beautifully, Lord M. Very well, here is your next question. Besides tending orchids and watching rooks, what is your favorite past time when you have time for leisure?”

“I don’t get much time for leisure, Ma’am,” he said with a significant look at her.

“But when you do?” She smiled sweetly, ignoring his jab.

“Writing about Saint Chrysostom,” he said without hesitation.

“Truth. I remember that now.”

He huffed a laugh and sat up straight, his eyes glowing with victory. “Got you.”

“What do you mean, ‘got me’?”

“I mean you are incorrect, Ma’am. Now prepare for your punishment.” He rubbed his hands together.

“What? How can that be wrong? Whatever is it then?”

“Ah, but remember, we are not bound to answer that. Stand, please.”

She stood up. Stumbled a little. The room was quite a bit more unstable than she remembered.

She distinctly heard him chuckle.

“This is going to be good,” he said, leaning back again and folding his hands across his chest, arching an eyebrow at her. “Go to the middle of the room, and hop upon one leg until I tell you to cease.”

“What?”

He canted his head the opposite direction and blinked his long eyelashes at her winningly. “Remember Ma’am. You love hearing me sing.”

She glowered, eyes narrowed at him. She had long suspected he had used his eyelashes, and his most innocent expression, to his own advantage against her. This, then, was absolute proof that she had been correct. She sighed. “But what if I should fall?”

“Then you will stand and continue hopping until I tell you to cease.”

“But—”

“Do not prevaricate with me, Ma’am,” he chastised with a grin. “Now. I shall enjoy this immensely.”

“I never knew you were so dastardly, Lord M.”

“Well. Now you do.”

She made her way unsteadily to the middle of the room, balanced precariously on one leg, and hopped, stumbling immediately as the room spun around her. “Oof! This is quite a lot harder than I expected!”

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“Your back is to me. I wish you to face me as you hop.”

“You are taking advantage, Lord M!” She hiccuped as she turned—or perhaps as the room turned about her, reorienting her as he had requested.

“Now then. Hop, please, Your Majesty.”

She hopped. And stumbled. And hopped again. And kept on hopping for quite some time, until she was quite dizzy with her efforts. His eyes were dark and hooded as he watched her perform before him. It was most undignified—she felt like a circus animal. And her breasts jiggled most uncomfortably as she did so. It was some time before she realized that was precisely where his eyes were fixed.

When she stumbled most abominably and almost lost her footing entirely, finally he bade her to cease.

“Well done, Ma’am,” he said simply.

“You forgot to drink, Lord M,” she said tersely as she staggered back to her chair. He was still chuckling even as she sat down. “And next time, I shall make you sing for me quite a while longer in payment for that!” She closed her eyes against the spinning room.

“Worth every moment,” he said softly. “Yes, I believe I have found a new favorite punishment too, Ma’am.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that to me again! I am so humiliated! And confoundedly dizzy.”

“No reason to be humiliated Ma’am. This evening’s entertainment is entirely our secret, remember? No one will ever know beyond me. And I am safe, after all, am I not?”

“I had thought so,” she said darkly as he chuckled again. “It is your turn again.”

“So it is.” He leaned forward again. “What is your deepest secret, Your Majesty? Your most intimate, hidden truth?”

“Really, Lord M!” She giggled. “Is that seriously to be your question?”

“It is.” His eyes were fixed darkly on her as he drank from his glass.

“Well. I suppose…I am a bit insecure about my lack of height. I do so wish I could be a little taller and more womanly, so others might take me more seriously, instead of regarding me as a troublesome little girl with a crown.”

He studied her intently, his eyes calculating. Her answer was plausible, certainly. She returned his scrutiny with an arched eyebrow of her own, such a perfect mirror of his own posture that he chuckled and shook his head.

“My God. You are the most incredible woman I have ever known,” he said, falling back against his chair. “God help any man who ever crosses you, Ma’am. You are so damned fierce.”

“And you, Lord M, are stalling,” she declared. “Your verdict, if you please.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head, and she knew she had him flummoxed. Inside herself, she crowed with victory.

“It is entirely possible, I will grant you,” he said, resorting to thinking aloud. “Despite everything I have tried to teach you regarding your stature, you could still be insecure. But is that your darkest secret? Your most intimate truth?” His eyes returned to her, seeking. “That is the true question.”

“If you are anticipating that I am going to give you a hint, Lord M, then you are most mistaken.”

“No, Ma’am. I know you would as soon cut my throat as give me a hint.” He laughed again finally and shook his head. Throwing up his hands in that gesture of defeat she found so adorable, he said at last, “Truth.”

“Incorrect,” she said, permitting herself a small smile of victory.

“Bloody hell, I knew it! As soon as it crossed my lips! Bollocks!”

He truly must be into his cups, she thought with a barely suppressed giggle. He had never used such a word in her hearing before!

“Well played, Ma’am,” he said, with a grin he could not suppress. “Very well played, indeed.”

“Quite,” she said archly. “And now for your punishment, Lord M.”

“Oh God,” he said with a groan. “Please do not make me sing again!”

“Very well,” she said, with a small grin. Without hesitation of any kind or so much as a second thought, she took another sip of her drink and pronounced his punishment. “I wish you to come here, Lord M.”

A small grin appeared on his own features and his brow furrowed. He was puzzled by her request, but not displeased.

“Very well, Ma’am,” he said, rising and coming to stand before her.

Victoria stood as well, though she was so unsteady he was obliged to stabilize her with his hand on her elbow.

He was quite close to her now. She looked up and up towards him, the heat of his body a palpable thing she could feel, though she was not touching him.

“For your punishment,” she pronounced, “You will remove your frock coat. And you will allow me to remove your cravat as well.”

His eyebrows again shot skyward. She watched his throat work as he swallowed, and he regarded her through hooded eyes.

“Ma’am,” he said at last, “Are you quite sure you wish to progress down this path?”

“I am,” she said without hesitation. “It is only the two of us here, after all. And neither of us will ever speak of this night to others. Therefore we are safe.”

“Have you considered,” he said, voice hoarse, “that I might not entirely consider this a punishment?”

“Perhaps not. But I have you in my power, and you must do as I say. And so, this is about my wish. I wish to see you in—”, she swallowed hard, remembering the day she came upon him unannounced at Dover House. What had he called it—his glorious state of undress? The day that had haunted her dreams ever since. “Disarray,” she pronounced at last. “We are alone here, and not to be disturbed again by others. Therefore these items are not needed, and I wish you to remove them.”

“Ma’am,” he gave her that half-smile she so adored. “It is still a bit chilly, outside the circle of our fire.”

“Then we shall stay within it’s circle, Lord M.”

His expression changed from one of amusement to something she could not define. He regarded her for a moment from beneath lowered eyelids, the twin fans of his lashes still catching the light of the fire. It was an expression she had seen him wear the night of the coronation ball, when he had taken her into the corridor and sent her to bed.

He blinked once, twice, and did not speak for a beat.

“As always, Ma’am, your wish is my command,” he said at last. Then he stepped back a pace, and with a roll of his shoulders he shucked his jacket—slowly, removing it, folding it carefully and bending it over his arm—all while holding her eyes captive in his own.

There was something so intimate in his eyes, so open and transparent, that Victoria found she could scarce draw breath. Her request had not been a complicated one, and yet perhaps, perhaps it had been indecent of her. But she wanted it so much that she did not care. She stifled a hiccup.

It occurred to her vaguely that perhaps the champagne’s influence on her was far stronger than she suspected. But in that moment she did not care. The drink had made her bold enough to ask, and the circumstances would like never be repeated. This was her one opportunity to have this of him, and have it she would. She knew him well enough to know he would not think less of her for it. They were each other’s safe place, their safe harbor, no judgment given or pronounced, and no one else ever the wiser.

She reached out and took his coat from him, loving the feel of its heavy wool in her hands. She looked down at what she held in astonishment, stroking the fabric absently, smoothing it. It was still warm in her hands from the heat of his body.

Lord M’s coat…in her arms. Were she his wife, it would be her pleasure and privilege to take it from him thus all the time. She wanted to open it and snuggle herself inside, to have his scent all around her, the warmth from his own body still inside it, penetrating her own. But instead she laid it reverently on a nearby table, aware—exceedingly aware—of his eyes on her the whole time.

He stood patiently, without speaking, as she came to him, stepped into his space, and lay her hands on the beautiful burgundy silk of his cravat. She fingered it lightly, following its elegant folds and drapes with pleasure, enjoying the smooth, slippery texture of the fabric against her skin. His eyes burned into hers, and he stood stock still, not assisting in the slightest as she examined its knot in an effort to facilitate its unwinding. Finally, her fingers explored the knot itself, discerning its folds, and then with both hands, she loosened it.

The knot melted beneath her hands, fell away from his throat. She unwrapped it from his extraordinarily still frame until it puddled softly into her hands. Only then did she look up at him, and gasped at the expression in his eyes.

“Is my punishment concluded, Your Majesty?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Nearly. I wish you to…unbutton the top button of your shirt. Else I will not believe you can breathe.”

At this, he chuckled, and the spell was broken. “I have been breathing quite well the whole of the night thus. It was only obscured by my cravat.”

“Still. Without it you look most uncomfortable.”

“Very well,” he said, eyes soft now as he unfastened the topmost button and the severe, white starched wing collar was pulled down and away, exposing his throat to her eyes. “There. Better now, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. She gazed a long moment at the picture he now presented—at the soft white shirt, draped elegantly over his athletic shoulders, at his trim waist, still encased in the burgundy velvet of his waistcoat, at his hips, and finally at the elegant line of his throat before she remembered herself and took her seat again.

“I believe it is your turn now, Ma’am,” he said, taking a sip of his brandy. If he had been uncomfortable at her scrutiny, he was too well-mannered to comment upon it.

“Tell me, Lord M,” she said, feasting her eyes on him still, and now winding her hands most satisfactorily in the silk of his cravat, which she still held. “What is the one trait you find most attractive in a woman?”

That mysterious look was back in his eyes again. “Physical or otherwise?”

“Either, I suppose,” she said. What had taken possession of her tongue? Why could she not get a hold of herself? But she had always wished to know—always longed to know the answer. And so now her question hung suspended between them.

“Well, that is a very broad category, Ma’am. I do find so very many things attractive about women that it is so hard to choose just one.” He leaned back and crossed his hands over his midsection philosophically.

“Do you indeed?” Her heart was pounding so hard she felt he could see it from where he sat. She wound the burgundy silk tightly between her fingers, gripping it to stop them trembling as she awaited his reply.

“Yes, I do. There is so much to love, after all. But I would have to say…that I admire a woman most for her beauty. A man can forgive very much, you see—silliness, ill-temper, a total lack of wit—if his partner is beautiful to him.”

She nodded, mouth dry. Was she beautiful to him? She felt certain it could not be.

“I see.”

“Well? What is the verdict, Your Majesty?”

“Truth,” she said with hardly a thought. It must be so, after all. All men valued beauty. Why else did women persecute themselves so mercilessly in its attainment? The world was particularly unkind to those unfortunate creatures whom nature had not kissed and made beautiful, or who had lost their beauty to age and children, and the cares of the world.

His chuckle brought her back to herself.

“Got you again. My my my, Your Majesty. If you are going to persist with this line of questioning, you cannot continue to fall for such obvious ploys.”

“What? I was wrong? You lied?”

“Of course I did! Only a fool values beauty over wit and intelligence. Now. Your punishment.”

“But all men value beauty.”

“Certainly. But it is the greatness of a woman’s mind, I always find, that makes her most beautiful. Now. You are in my power.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

“You have been very naughty this night, Your Majesty.”

“Have I?”

“Oh yes you have. And that cannot go unpunished.”

Her heart was in her throat. Whatever would he ask of her?

“Come here.”

She stood and came to his chair. He did not at first raise his eyes to hers, merely kept them on her skirts, then slowly raised them to her.

“Come closer,” he whispered again.

She came to stand just before him, her legs between his knees, her skirts brushing against them on either side. He looked up at her boldly.

“What was my last punishment again, Your Majesty?” He asked, smoothing his eyebrow with one long finger in a gesture she adored.

“I believe I had you remove your coat and cravat.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. I remember that now,” he said nodding.

“You know you have never forgotten it,” she replied dryly. "And neither have I. Kindly dispense with the pretense otherwise and pronounce my punishment, Lord M."

His eyebrows lifted once in reply, and he pursed his lips, regarding her with amusement.

“Well now. I think I shall give you a similar punishment—Ma’am.” He nodded towards her skirts. “I wish you to remove one of your underskirts.” His eyes met hers, and again, she noticed how his long lashes glowed most innocently in the firelight. “And I wish to see your legs.”

At first, she gasped. The audacity of his request! But then a giggle escaped her.

“Lord M!” She said, hiccuping slightly. “For shame!”

“No shame,” he said emphatically. “There is no shame between us.”

He did not repeat his request—the terms of her punishment—but waited expectantly. To comply she had to reach up around her waist and release the drawstring of her underskirt. To do this she had to raise her gown quite high around her hands—all of which, he knew very well.

And all of which, she did.

Holding his eyes she raised her gown until her fingers reached the drawstrings of her underskirts at the waist, the heavy gown draped before her most intimate area, but exposing her legs. She untied it and released it, her eyes still on his face as the petticoat whispered its way to the floor and pooled around her ankles, leaving her legs in their pantaloons and stockings exposed to his eyes, the folds of her gown just barely covering her hips.

She saw him suck in a giant gasp, all playfulness gone from his features as his eyes stayed fixed on her body. Victoria did not drop her skirts right away—instead she let him look his fill. Then lowered her gown slowly, loving the way his eyes caressed her all the way down to her ankles just ahead of the hem of her gown.

“Dear God,” was all he said.

She stooped to gather up her underskirt and folded it best she could. Then she handed it to him.

“Your spoils of war, I believe.”

He took it, gazing at it reverently, touching his hand to the soft, still-warm folds before setting it aside.

“Is that my punishment concluded? Or do you wish to spank me for my impudence as well?” It was a flippant comment that flew from her mouth, fueled, no doubt, entirely by champagne. But the look on his face upon receiving it stole her breath away. His eyes burned and he swallowed hard but did not reply.

Something she could not quite describe took over her then. Somehow she understood she was the center of his hyper focus, that she had unwittingly wielded some kind of special power over him, and he was now rendered helpless.

It was a fascinating prospect.

Hardly knowing what she was doing, she stepped between his knees again, and reached beneath her gown, holding his eyes captive in her own as she hiked up the blue silk and again reached for her waist.

His breath was ragged and his eyes were fixed at first upon hers, but as she raised her skirt slowly, dropped inexorably to her body. As if he could not resist.

Her hands touched the drawstring of her pantaloons, her eyes fixed on him, watching his face closely for his every reaction. His eyes flew to hers as understanding dawned. He shook his head imperceptibly, but did not speak.

“I believe I have been exceedingly wicked this night,” she whispered. “And deserve further punishment at your hands.”

Her pantaloons dropped. Cool air kissed her nether regions.

He sucked in a breath, let it out in a groan.

She turned her her back to him, still holding her skirts, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“I await your pleasure, my Lord Melbourne.”

“God above,” he finally choked out. “Ma’am, I—do not think—that is--” But he had already moved toward her. “Bloody hell…” he murmured, his hands landing hot and large on her thighs, sliding up to her hips.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She was finding it hard to stand. His hands…on her body! They were hot as fire.

His hands slid up beneath her skirt to land on her hips.

“Very well,” he whispered. “Come here, Ma'am, and lay across my lap, face down.”

She turned to face him again, met his eyes once, and it was as if something had taken possession of him, so dark and eager were his eyes. Oh yes. He liked this game too.

She dropped her skirts and lay over his knees, face down. She lay there waiting, heart pounding, breathing in gasps. What on earth was she doing? But it was too late to question. She did not even fully comprehend her own actions herself. Perhaps she had taken leave of her senses entirely. Perhaps the champagne fizzing through her system made her give in to every wild impulse that came to mind. Either way, she would not back out now. She bit her lip expectantly.

His hands landed on her body again, positioning her, scooting her closer.

“You are sure about this?” He whispered.

“Quite sure,” she said. “Else I would not be here.”

“Yes,” he said, and the word itself was a caress. “Yes oh yes…you have been very wicked tonight Ma’am.” His hands slid against the silk of her skirt, rucking the fabric high, exposing her legs to the cool air before finally uncovering her posterior entirely. His hand landed on her backside. Soft, caressing. “Whatever has got into you, to behave in such a wanton way, hmm? Clearly some discipline is required to bring you back to your senses.”

And then…

SMACK!

She squeaked in surprise. It had not hurt, but the slap against her backside had been loud and sudden, startling her.

“You naughty, naughty girl…”

SMACK again!

“So deliciously naughty…”

SMACK!

She bit her lip. No, still no pain. But the pressure of his hand, the contact of it against her bare skin, the clear enjoyment infusing his voice was startling—exciting.

“Drinking alone with your Prime Minister in the middle of the night?”

SMACK!

“Lying…”

SMACK!

“Undressing me…baring yourself before me...”

SMACK!

“You should know better!”

SMACK!

“What am I going to do with you, hmm??”

SMACK!

She moaned in response, and his hand against her stilled. She could hear their combined breathing—hard, gasping.

It hadn’t hurt at all. Not even a little. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, but his strokes were loud and oh, it was so desperately wicked. But at the same time, the act was astonishing in its intimacy. Victoria felt she was not the only one in the room who was laying herself bare before the other one.

His hand stayed flat against her bottom another minute. Victoria could swear she almost felt his hands tremble against her. Then he gently smoothed her skirts back down over her bottom and legs until she was quite covered again and helped her to stand.

She stood unsteadily, still breathing hard.

He stood also before her, his eyes bare as he held her gaze, something like fear, or perhaps shame in them. “I fear I…that is…I got lost in our game. Did I go too far, Your Majesty? Have I committed an unforgivable sin?”

As he spoke his expression became more and more stricken. His skin pale in the firelight.

She shook her head. “No. Between us there is nothing that is unforgivable. Besides—you will recall I started it.”

His eyes found hers, and he huffed a laugh.

“By God you did.” He took a deep breath, his eyes still on hers. “You are the most remarkable woman I have ever known.”

“And you the best man I have ever known.”

“You can say that still, after what I just did?”

“I can. And I permitted it for the same reason.”

“I should never have done it.”

“And I should never have instigated it.”

They looked at each other a moment, and both began to giggle, shattering the grave atmosphere and restoring them to their prior comfort.

“We are both behaving abominably,” he said. “I can hardly believe what just transpired.”

“Neither can I.” She giggled a little. “It was most…enlightening..Lord M.”

“Did I hurt you?” He asked in a hushed whisper, as if afraid for the answer.

“Not in the least.” She smiled.“Shall we carry on being wicked with each other?”

“God in heaven,” he said. “I should leave. Right now.”

“Yes. You probably should.”

He did not move. Neither did she.

“Do you wish me to go?”

“Never. Do you wish to leave me?”

He took a deep breath. “Never, Ma’am,” he said shaking his head. On sudden impulse her took her hand in his and kissed it, slowly this time, stroking it softly with his other hand. “I never wish to leave you.”

“Then stay. Please stay awhile longer. And let us entertain ourselves as we see fit. Let us have this moment—this night together, Lord M. Let us celebrate the old year and bring in the new just thus. Together this way. For if you left me now for certain, I would weep.”

“I have no desire to ever make you weep, Ma’am.”

“Then stay. Please. And let us continue our game.”

“It is against all my best scruples to do so.”

“And mine as well.”

“Yet I am loathe to leave you,” he whispered. “God help me I am.”

“Then pray be seated again. And let us commence our game.”

He flashed her a smile and with a squeeze, released her hand at last. “What would you say if I told you I felt even more wicked than we have already been?”

“I would probably say so do I.”

“This is most unwise.” He shook his head. “I can’t recall a time I’ve behaved more foolishly. I am sure I have but God knows when.” He reached for his drink and downed the contents. “I shall have much to reproach myself with later.”

“I forbid you to do so—ever.” She said quickly, taking a drink of her champagne. “For I shall always treasure the memory of this night, and I insist that you do so, too.”

He chuckled. “Very well, Ma’am.” His eyes shone as he gazed at her and smiled.

She returned his smile.

“Bloody hell, we are in a dangerous mood tonight.”

“Yes we are.”

“Much could happen as a result.”

“Indeed it could.”

“Things that could have—irrevocable consequences. Have you thought of that?” His eyes found hers again after he poured himself a new drink.

“I have. Whatever will be, will be. I shall have no regrets.”

“None at all? Are you entirely sure you’ve thought this completely through, Ma’am, and that none of this frightens you?”

“Nothing about you frightens me. As long as I am with you, I am safe. No matter what occurs.”

“As I am. When I am with you.” The words were ragged as he spoke them. “Fearless creature. I place myself entirely in your hands, Ma’am.”

“As I do myself, in yours.” She whispered. “Now. Shall we continue our game? I believe it is your turn, Lord M. Ask me your question, and I will answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I said I'd never do a spanking scene. Then this happened...
> 
> Anyway a little more to go in this story. Hoping to update soon. But in the meantime, Happy New Year, readers! I hope you enjoyed this so far and I hope you have a wonderful new year!


	5. Hungry Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game continues apace...
> 
> “I've been meaning to tell you  
> I've got this feelin' that won't subside  
> I look at you and I fantasize  
> You're mine tonight  
> Now I've got you in my sights
> 
> With these hungry eyes  
> One look at you and I can't disguise  
> I've got hungry eyes  
> I feel the magic between you and I....
> 
> I need you to see  
> This love was meant to be…”
> 
> (”Hungry Eyes”, Eric Carmen, 1987)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, readers, that the ending to this story is taking longer than anticipated to post. My Muse may be prolific but he is also at times recalcitrant, elusive, and somewhat coy when it comes to endings. He is proving to be frustratingly so now. But it is more important, I think, to finish well than to finish quickly. So that is the reason behind the delay. There are in fact multiple ways I have written the ending, but now I am taking time to listen to which one is right. 
> 
> In the meantime, Chapter 5 is happening either way. Therefore I hope that you can accept a single chapter posting as a bit of an apology for the delay, and I hope it will also tide you over until my Muse can make up his mind about how the ending should play out. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 5—Hungry Eyes

He should leave. Right now. This instant.

By all that was holy, had he just disciplined his Queen? Dear God, how would he face her again in the morning, when he was sober and once again of right mind? But here, in this darkened room, in the deep of the night, lit only by the firelight before them, over some very fine bottles of drink and quite alone, here was their own little world where nothing felt forbidden between them. It was seductive. Intoxicating. Erotic.

And God above, did he want her.

He had been a fool to agree to this. But if he were entirely honest with himself, he would have to say he wanted it.

There were a few loaded moments of silence as they settled themselves once again in their chairs, and Victoria spread her skirts around herself and smoothed them. And he could hear—and feel—every rustle of silk. And the pounding of his own blood coursing through his body, fueled by the twin demons of alcohol and lust, rushing to his groin as he felt himself harden still further as he contemplated all that lay hidden beneath those skirts...all that had been exposed to him just minutes before…

“I am ready when you are, Lord M.”

Her words, spoken as they were in a hushed whisper, sent a bolt of raw heat through him, and he was obliged to cross his legs to try and disguise his already highly visible problem. Fortunately the room was dark enough, he hoped, to conceal it from her eyes. He closed his own a moment against the wave of dark lust. Her words were innocently spoken and intended. But their effect on him in his current state of mind were far less so.

He cleared his throat, as if that could somehow dislodge the pernicious, wicked thoughts that had taken root there. He cast about for a question that would lead them onto safer ground, but the throbbing of his manhood would not allow him to think with any other region of his body.

“Very well, Ma’am,” he said at length, when he could trust himself to speak. “Here is your next question. What is the most wicked thing you have ever done—apart from what we just did of course?”

She pursed her lips and took a sip from her glass.

“Actions only, or do thoughts count?”

It was irresistible.

“Thoughts count,” he said.

She was too adorable. He knew exactly when she was bluffing, of course. She cast her eyes to the side and thrust her chin into the air.

“When I was ten, I once was so cross with Mama that I put a frog in her bed. She got the most awful shock. I was not allowed to walk out of doors for five days. But Lehzen and I giggled about it every day afterward for a fortnight at least.”

It was a charming lie. But he was not about to call her on it.

“Truth,” he said, attempting to make his answer seem honest.

She giggled. “You are wrong again, Lord M! I begin to think you do this on purpose!”

“What? Me? Never!” He downed the rest of his glass in one shot to hide his smile.

“Now I know you are doing this on purpose! Are you laughing at me?” She was giggling herself like mad.

“No indeed, Ma’am,” he said, feeling himself chuckle. God she was so lovely. He loved seeing her this way. So uninhibited. So carefree. “I would never laugh at you.”

“Yes you are! You must be! You are never this bad a judge of what is true. How indeed did you ever become Prime Minister if you cannot read people more than this?” She could hardly talk for all her giggling.

He was enchanted. Utterly charmed by the sight before him. His beautiful little queen, laughing herself silly, entirely at ease.

“I cannot say, Ma’am. Perhaps I am surrounded by other politicians who are equally deplorable a judge of character as myself. Perhaps even more so.”

She was shaking her head.

“No. I believe you want me to punish you.” Her voice had taken on a husky tone.

“What ever would give you that idea, Ma’am?” _Come here_ , he thought at her. _Oh, come here and punish me, My Queen. Punish me severely, for I have been a very bad boy._

“I believe you like singing, Lord M. And you wish to sing to me again.”

He felt his shoulders sag.

She giggled again. “It would serve you right if I did make you to sing. I am particularly fond of ‘Good King Winceslas.’”

He groaned aloud and let his head thump back against the chair.

“I hate ‘Good King Winceslas’, you know I do!”

“That then is the very definition of punishment, is it not? But I have decided against it. For there is something else I wish to extract from you.”

“Then pray, do so,” he said, unable to prevent the slow, predatory smile from spreading across his face. “Anything you wish to extract from me is entirely yours…Ma’am.”

Mercifully, the filthiness of his reply was lost on his innocent girl-queen.

She rose from her chair, and with a cherubic smile, left the room rather unsteadily, disappearing into her bed chamber. He could hear her rummaging around, and it made his mouth very dry. Good God, what was she looking for? He huffed a laugh and poured himself more brandy, shaking his head. Doubtless whatever it was, it would not be what he was anticipating. He really must try and pull his thoughts back from the brink. Try and calm himself.

He looked thoughtfully at her empty glass a moment, then he reached over and filled it with more champagne. No. It was too much fun, this. It was irresistible. _She_ was irresistible.

She returned with…a hairbrush? His eyebrows shot up and he felt himself smile. He was not sure what he was expecting, but it had not been that.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “For your punishment, I should like you to take down my hair, Lord M. For it is far too uncomfortable as it is. And as it is late, and you and I are quite cozy and alone, and close to my bedchamber, no one else can see that you have done so. So I should like it down now.”

He huffed a laugh. “So I have been demoted from Prime Minister to Queen’s Dresser, have I?”

“You have. Your deplorable lack of ability to read character has necessitated the change.”

He laughed out loud. God her wit! Her cleverness! Even when intoxicated.

And speaking of such…he held the brush thoughtfully. It was at once so innocent a request, and yet so intimate that it floored him. It would be the sort of thing a wife might ask of her husband, what it was she wanted of him—to take down her hair, to finger her tresses, to brush them until they were glossy and smooth, to run his fingers through her hair, even to see her hair unbound and flowing down her shoulders…dear God. The trust she placed in him. Trust, and yet so much more than trust. He was very suddenly deeply honored.

His mouth was dry as he rolled the brush around in his hands. So undeserving. No man could ever be truly worthy of her, of course. But himself? Himself least of all. He blinked hard against the breaking of his heart.

“Well then,” he said quietly, still contemplating the heavy, gold handled brush in his hands, “Where shall I perform my new duties, hmm? Here, beside the fire? Or in your chamber at your dressing table, Ma’am?”

“Here I would have to sit on the floor.”

“Yes, you probably would, Ma’am.”

“Or upon the edge of your chair.”

“Or indeed upon my knee.” He could not resist it--could not stop himself from saying it.

“Or we could go into my bedchamber and to my dressing table.”

“We could indeed.” _Her bedchamber!_

“What do you prefer, Lord M?”

“Well Ma’am. As this is to be my punishment, you should probably not ask as to my comfort.”

“True. Nevertheless, I am asking.”

What a choice…her bedchamber, or his own lap?

“Is…there a fire in your room Ma’am? Would you be warm enough in there?”

“There is a fire, however it is smaller. This one is far warmer.”

“Then probably we should stay here.” He looked up at her. “In which case, you will either have to sit on the floor or upon my knee. For even if I stand, the backs of these chairs are so tall that you would have to sit sideways, and I do not believe that would be comfortable for you, Ma’am.”

“That is a good point.” She bit her lip a moment. “The floor can be quite chilly too, despite the carpets. And especially as I am wearing fewer layers after all.”

“True enough, Ma’am.” His eyes dropped to her body. How well he remembered.

“Perhaps I would do better to sit upon your knee? If you do not think I would be to heavy, or that it would make me too tall?”

“Not at all, Ma’am,” he tried to hide his grin. “Here,” he patted his lap. “Sit, Ma’am, and make yourself comfortable.”

She perched herself delicately over his knees and he bit his lip to stifle a groan.

She squirmed a little. “Am I hurting you, Lord M? I am not too heavy, am I?”

He gazed at her. At her glorious hair which it was to be his privilege this night to free. At the very vision of such an unearthly creature in such proximity to himself. It was a vision he was not likely to ever forget.

“No,” he replied softly. “You are not too heavy Ma’am.”

“Good. You may proceed.”

* * *

Victoria closed her eyes as his hands landed in her hair. Tentatively at first, they fluttered over the complicated twists and braids, looking for the most logical starting place to begin the process of taking down the whole of it. As he removed the diamond pins and handed them to her, and his large, strong, nimble fingers began to touch her hair in earnest, pulling forth pins and unwinding the long intricate coils, she shivered. Oh, yes. What a delightful punishment this was! Her beloved Lord M’s hands in her hair felt like heaven itself.

She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling of him. His strong legs beneath her. His body so close. And oh, his hands in her hair!

A sigh escaped her.

His hands stilled their work instantly.

“Ma’am?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Sorry Lord M. My mind was wandering.”

“Ah.”

Slowly his hands began their work again.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?”

“Just now. What were you thinking of?”

His voice sounded strange. Somewhat strangled. Like it had before when he had her bent over his knee.

“You are sure I am not too heavy, Lord M? You sound as though you cannot breathe.”

“I am…fine, Ma’am. Just…concentrating, is all.”

“Is my hair really that complicated?”

“In a manner of speaking, Ma’am.” He released another braid. “You were going to tell me what you were thinking of just now. When you…sighed.”

“Only that it feels so good to finally be rid of all these blasted pins. I do so look forward to taking my hair down at night. It is a relief after a long day to let it just remain loose.”

“You know…some would consider this to be quite indecent. What we are doing now.”

“Why? We are both still fully dressed, after all.”

“Well…mostly.”

She turned to look over her shoulder at his reproachful look and burst into giggles. “ _This_ is indecent, but what we were doing before was not?”

“That was far more indecent.”

“Indeed it was. Perhaps I should give you similar treatment?”

He huffed a laugh.

“I deserve far worse for that. But I would certainly permit it if you wanted to attempt it Ma’am.”

“The idea has merit, Lord M. I think I should like to attempt it, though perhaps not quite in the same way. For you would be far too heavy for my lap I think.”

“Doubtless I would, Ma’am.”

“Well in any case, I quite enjoyed it. Which means I am by far the most indecent of us both.”

“No. You are definitely not.” He said with authority. “If you but knew how very indecent I was you would not be here so comfortably with me now.”

“Yes I would. I trust you with my life, Lord M, as I have told you before, no matter how indecent you perceive yourself to be. What happens here between us tonight is for us alone.”

“God, Ma’am. I am beginning to think this whole night is but a very bizarre dream.”

“If it is, I do not ever want to wake up from it.”

“Neither do I.”

She turned to catch his eyes again and burst into giggles.

He joined her.

“We really are shameful, aren’t we?”

“Yes Ma’am, we are.”

“Well then. It is good that this evening, dream or no, never happened, Lord M.”

“Very good indeed, Ma’am.”

“You really are wicked to indulge me so.”

“I am. But I take great delight in indulging you, Ma’am.”

“As I take great delight in your indulgence.” Her eyes closed again as another section of her hair fell free. “Oh, you are so very good at this. Did you often do this for your Caroline?”

His hands stilled again.

“No,” he said very quietly. “I did not. Not even once.”

“Oh. Lord M…I am sorry. Please forgive me. I should not have spoken so.”

“Do not trouble yourself, Ma’am,” he said, finger-combing the section he’d just freed. “It was a long time ago now. You couldn’t have known.”

“Well. I only meant to remark how blissful it feels to have your hands in my hair thus. You have not pulled it, even once.”

“I am glad to know it. I have taken pains, I hope, to prevent any discomfort on your part.”

Then, he lay down her brush, combing his fingers through her hair. And she sighed again.

“It feels so right. Being with you this way,” she said eventually, lost in the touch of his hands. “The most right and natural thing in the world.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Yes it does.”

“I wish it to be this way all the time between us. Why does everything have to be so complicated, when it is really quite simple?”

She felt him huff out a laugh. “Well. That’s a complicated answer, Ma’am.”

She laughed too. “But it shouldn’t be. We over complicate everything I think.”

“Perhaps we do. Your hair is so beautiful this way, Ma’am. Even more beautiful than I ever imagined.” He raised his hand to smooth it again. “I thank you for my punishment most sincerely.”

"As I do you, Lord M. You have performed your duties most admirably. I am tempted strongly to make your demotion a permanent one. How good are you with corsets?”

As soon as she’d said the words, she sucked in a breath. She hadn’t meant to say it like that. To make it sound like…like…

“Well,” he said _sotto voce_ , “though I can assist with putting them on, I am far more adept at removing them.”

Her heart skipped a beat. His hands smoothed her hair, now brushing her hair beginning from the ends and working his way up. Slowly, with a thoroughness and a gentle reverence that undid her.

She had been foolish to say what she had. And now she wished she’d never have spoken. Of course he was adept at removing them. He had had many lovers, had he not? And oh, how she hated them all. Even his wife, Caroline. Every woman who had known her Lord M’s hands on her person. To say nothing of any other part of him…

She wanted his hands on her. Everywhere on her. As he brushed her hair and smoothed it with his fingertips, she could think of nothing else. She had to bite her lip to keep herself asking for more. She heard herself sigh again.

Then, he lay down her brush, combing his fingers through her hair, pulling it back and letting it fall idly.

“You are so beautiful, My Queen.”

Her eyes flew open. His words had come out in a whisper. And before she knew what was happening, he gently held the curtain of her hair aside, and then softly and warmly, his lips landed on the back of her neck.

She gasped.

He hesitated. And then, another. And then she sat perfectly still, anticipating for a moment. And then, another kiss.

Was he waiting for her to stop him? As if she could! She was afraid to breathe less the spell be broken and he be shucking her off his lap and back into her own seat.

When he nuzzled against her, his breath warm against her skin, she whimpered.

“Do you have any idea what it is doing to me, having you on my lap this way? Touching you so very intimately?”

“Do you wish me to leave you?” She asked, biting her lip against his reply.

“No,” his lips landed on her neck again. “I wish you closer still.”

She let out a ragged breath, and felt herself go boneless in his arms. Her head dropped to the side, exposing her throat for him. His lips landed hot and eager on her skin, making her tremble and sigh again as he kissed her just beneath her ear.

“Stop me, my Queen,” he whispered hotly. “Oh pray, stop me and remind me of my duty!” Then his hands were sliding down over her arms, his own fingers covering hers, pressed against her midsection, taking her fully into his arms, pulling her back, farther into his lap towards his torso as he groaned.

Victoria gasped to feel her body land back against his, pressed all the way into his chest. His lips landed on her shoulder, just over the neckline of her gown.

“Ohhh…my dearest, my dearest Lord M!” Her eyes fluttered closed, her world narrowed to the soft, hot path of his lips on her skin.

“God have mercy on me,” he said into her hair, “because I never want to let you go.”

She felt all the air leave her lungs in a whoosh.

“Then do not, My Darling. Do not ever let me go.” She could scarce draw breath. “I wish to stay this way with you forever. I have dreamed of being this way with you. Longed for it.”

“As have I.”

She bit her lip, moaning a little. Lost. So lost in his touch! 

“Forgive me…” he whispered. “Please forgive me. I am overcome.”

“There is nothing to forgive, my Darling Lord M.”

“There is plenty to forgive, Ma’am.” He banded his arms tightly around her waist, pressing her more firmly against his body. “More and more, for I cannot stop myself.”

“I wish to turn around. I wish to hold you. To lay my head upon your shoulder. Will you permit it?”

"Of course I will. There is nothing I would not permit you."

He released her and she stood up briefly to reposition herself, drowning in his dark eyes and soft smile, in the sight of him holding his arms wide to her, inviting her back into his arms.

“Come here, Your Majesty,” he said as she sat down again, this time perched sideways upon one leg, her own dropping between his knees to the floor.

“Still not too heavy for you, now that I am seated upon only one of your legs?”

“Still not too heavy,” he said with surety as he drew her in, one hand upon her upper arm, the other upon her waist beneath her elbow. “Come here and snuggle with me, Ma’am. Let us keep each other warm, for the night is so cold.”

Hardly daring to believe she was not dreaming, she lay her head gently upon the shoulder she had so long fantasized about and sighed in contentment at the contact, one hand perched along the same shoulder she was resting upon, the other, sliding up to rest lightly upon his collarbone, toying idly with his open collar.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in, the only sounds their mingled breath, and the soft popping of the fire. He always smelled so lovely. Like brandy, and the smoke from the fireplace, and something woodsy and slightly spicy. His body was warm and strong, and Victoria felt so very at peace. As if all was right in the world, so long as he simply held her this way.

After a few silent moments, his cheek landed against her head, nuzzling. Neither spoke again for a little while.

"This is so much better," she said at length. "I want to be this way with you always."

"Yes," he whispered. "I want that too."

"Who won our game?" She asked suddenly, raising up to look at him.

He smiled into her eyes. "I would have to say it was a glorious draw, Ma'am."

"Indeed it was." She smiled in return. “Victoria.”

“Ma’am?”

“Please…I want you to call me Victoria, Lord M. When we are alone this way. When I am on your lap and in your arms it seems a bit silly to call me ‘Ma’am’, don’t you think?”

“On the contrary. It is a most necessary reminder of who you are. And who I am.”

"Why necessary?" She said, settling herself against his shoulder again happily. "Why can we not just be ourselves? Without the burden of cumbersome titles?" She drew an idle finger down his jaw, delighted by the rough texture of his beard, now growing in the later hours. 

"Well," he said with a chuckle, "Cumbersome they may be but, sometimes, Ma'am, they form a necessary layer of protection when our own natural inhibitions become weakened." He kissed her fingertips softly. 

"Are your inhibitions weakened where I am concerned, Lord M?"

He chuckled again, and she smiled to feel his chest heave with the sound beneath her. 

"I think it's safe to say they are, Ma'am. The brandy and your overwhelming charms have seen to that quite handily."

She laughed indelicately. “I think this may be a first in English history, Lord M. To have a Prime Minister cuddle the queen thus.”

“I hope so, Ma’am. I guarantee when I was Prime Minister to your uncle, this never happened.”

She giggled helplessly, disentangling herself from him in her mirth. “I cannot even imagine such a spectacle!” She wiped tears from her eyes.

“Glad to hear it. Neither can I. Your uncle I fear, would crush my leg were he to sit on it so.”

They both laughed, and as she looked down at him Victoria noticed that his smile seemed far happier than usual. And his green eyes were flashing with joy.

“William,” he said.

“My uncle?”

“No. Me. Call me William, when I hold you this way.”

“I am still waiting to hear my name on your lips,” she said playfully, falling back into his arms, wrapping both hands around his neck and fingering the curls on the back of his collar. His hair was so soft, and so delightfully springy.

“Victoria…” he said it in a hushed whisper, as if he were daring something he should never attempt.

“William,” she replied happily, and with a bravery that could have only come from champagne, nuzzled his face with her own the way he had done her neck, and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

He let out a soft moan, his eyes closed, and looked so affected by her gesture that Victoria’s heart melted. She kissed his other cheek. The place between his brows. And each of his eyes as well, her hands on his beloved face, caressing him lightly. Feeling him. Learning him. Adoring him.

“Oh my William…,” she whispered. “My dearest, dearest William!”

She placed her forehead against his, and they breathed into each other, both trying to still the frantic beating of their hearts.

In the far corner of the room, the grandfather clock struck midnight.

“The new year is upon us,” she whispered, nuzzling him softly.

“So it is,” he said. Taking her face in his hands suddenly, he claimed her mouth in a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There now. A bit more to come, probably. 
> 
> I always love your comments, if you feel like leaving them. :) How will it end? What do you think? Let me know! 
> 
> And thanks as always for reading!


	6. This Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lord M finally kisses Victoria, it is both cathartic and cataclysmic. What will happen as a result?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You can kiss me in the moonlight  
> On the rooftop under the sky, oh  
> You can kiss me with the windows open  
> While the rain comes pouring inside, oh  
> Kiss me in sweet slow motion  
> Let's let everything slide  
> You got me floating  
> You got me flying…”
> 
> (”This Kiss”, Faith Hill, 1998)

Chapter 6—This Kiss

Victoria gasped with the contact of his lips on hers. Gasped. Froze…and felt a frisson of energy like the spreading of wildfire down her body, striking like lightening that place deep in her belly that had been simmering all night long. Every time he had touched her, she had felt it just there…between her legs, in her most private regions. But here was a touch she had dreamed about. Wished for. Fantasized over. For as long as she had known him, she had tried to imagine the heaven that would be had to have his lips upon hers. To feel him lost in a moment of passion that she had inspired. And here it was, happening now. At last. At long last, his soft, supple, beautiful lips were on her with an urgency that bespoke desire. And it was her undoing. She whimpered against him helplessly.

Instantly his hold on her tightened, he hissed in a sharp breath and pressed his mouth harder against hers, a low moan escaping him, feeding the fire inside of her.

Her entire world became his kiss. He was so skillful…he knew just how to stroke her mouth with his. Sweetly and firmly he did just that. Coaxing her. As if asking her permission. She returned his kiss with everything she had.

_Yes. Oh, yes my darling. Kiss me. Kiss me now and forever! Kiss me without end!_

And so he kissed her again. And again. And again.

“Victoria…ohhh God…” he breathed her name as she covered him with her own kisses. Tiny, adoring kisses all along his jaw. The apples of his cheeks. The bridge of his elegant nose. Both eyebrows. And both eyelids. Kissed and kissed his handsome face, until suddenly he shuddered and cried out, and took her face in his hands again and pressed his mouth hard against hers, fusing them together.

She moaned into his kiss. She had not known it was possible to feel such love, such heaven on earth as this, his mouth tugging at hers, caressing and being caressed so intimately, as if his whole life was in their kiss.

She buried her hands in the soft thicket of his hair, twirling his curls between her fingers idly.

“Oh God oh bloody hell,” he broke away nuzzling her. “Victoria…ohhhh Victoria….”

She smiled. “I like the sound of my name on your lips…William.”

He smiled briefly into her eyes. “So do I. Nearly as much as I like the taste of your lips,” his eyes were heavy-lidded as he gazed at her mouth.

“They are yours for the tasting,” she said. 

He needed no other prompting. Victoria found her mouth captured by his again, her lower lip between his two. He sucked it lightly, pulling it between his own with a sigh.

She sighed into him too, felt her body melt even more in his hands. She wanted more than his kisses, she realized. She wanted to be closer to him. Wanted his hands upon her body anywhere. Everywhere.

His mouth opened beneath hers, bidding her open for him. She did. His tongue slid between her teeth, into her mouth, caressing hers, sliding like slick velvet against her own.

She cried out in surprise. She had not known kissing could be this way! That people kissed with their tongues…oh, it was too sinful…decadent…desperately wicked…and completely delicious.

_More. Oh more! Please!_

He moaned, his hands dropping to her body, pulling her tightly against him. Her body was on fire with his kisses. His nearness. She wanted her skin against his. Wanted to wrap her body around him and never let go.

He released her slowly, reluctantly, dragging himself away. Touching his forehead to hers as they both gasped for air.

“Lord M…” she cried, nuzzling him. “Oh my Lord M…” Her fingers were on his face in wonder. How had she lived all this time and not been able to kiss him this way?!

He chuckled when she asked him as much. “Well. You seem to have managed admirably so far.”

She shook her head. Still intoxicated by his kisses, as well as by the champagne.

“No, I have not,” she said, brushing his wonderful, talented mouth with her fingertips, making him smile, and kiss her fingers sweetly. “I shall never again be able to survive without them.”

His eyes lit up at her words, sparkling with mischief and pleasure.

“Indeed? Well, we must do everything we can to ensure your survival, Ma’am,” he said softly. “So I suppose it is my duty to Queen and country to keep you well kissed in future.”

“Oh yes,” she said, biting her lip and squirming on his lap a little. “Indeed you must…If you can bear to.” She added the last as an afterthought. What if he did not wish to keep kissing her?

“Ohhh, however shall I stand it?” He said leaning in, grinning, nuzzling her.

“Am I so terrible after all?” she whispered, giggling.

“Positively frightful,” he whispered against her cheek.

“I wonder that you can bear me so, then.”

“Indeed,” he purred in her ear. He kissed her earlobe softly, then drew it between his lips to nibble it, sucking lightly and still purring. “It defies all understanding, Ma’am.” He released her earlobe and planted his lips on her neck, traveling downward, kissing a hot trail down her skin that left her gasping and then back up again—his soft, pliant lips patiently, reverently kissing and kissing her with deliberate slowness.

“Oh God!” she cried, hands anchored in his hair.

He purred louder, and she felt the tip of his tongue dart out. Tasting her.

She bit her lip, rocking her head back, giving him full access, full permission.

“If I can bear to keep kissing you, indeed,” he whispered. “As if I could bear ever to stop.” 

He took her mouth. Ravaged it. Kissed her hard and deep, grinding his mouth against hers until Victoria was beside herself, feeling herself dissolved completely into him. He released her slowly, his deep green eyes finding hers, his expression soft, but with much more simmering beneath the surface. With a deep sigh, he touched his forehead to hers. 

“It is time for you to retire now…Ma’am,” he said, his voice husky, as he stroked her face with his hands. “Retire, while you still can.”

Dimly, his words penetrated the pleasure-thick fog in her mind.

“Noo…!” She cried, leaning in for him again.

“You must,” his grip on her cheeks was firm as he met her eyes with resolve, backing away. “I am scarce able to utter the words as it is. Victoria, you must know, Ma'am, how hotly I burn for you. For far more than your sweet kisses. You must go.”

His words made her shudder. “And what if I burn for you too?” She whispered. “What if more than anything else in the whole world, I want your hands upon me? I want…you. In my bed." She whispered the last words, scarcely able to utter them. 

His eyes closed as if her words pleased him greatly, and then opened again. Blinking at her slowly.

“All the more reason, then, to retire.” He said, his eyes soft with happiness, his lips quirked up on one side. He gave her a quick peck on the lips, a fleeting touch in farewell. “But do not imagine, Ma’am, for one moment that your wishes are not returned. Nor that this is the end of our kisses. For now that we have begun, I fear very much I will never be able to stop.” He stroked her hair softly back from her face.

She felt herself smiling. “Will you kiss me over the dispatch box?” She nuzzled his face with hers. “Allow me to sit upon your knee again as I sign, and draw me in this way? With your arms quite around me and me sitting quite close to you?”

“How I wish it, Ma’am,” he said, nuzzling her back again, wrapping his arms tightly around her as she had just described and pulling her warmly close to him. “Can you imagine what the outcry would be if someone were to walk in on us in such a state?”

She giggled. “Can you imagine Mama’s face? Or Sir John?”

“Sir John would be apoplectic,” he said with a chuckle, planting a stray kiss on her neck. “And your mother in complete hysterics.”

“It would be most amusing indeed!”

“For all of five seconds, before the scandal broke,” he said with a sigh. “God, Victoria. How I wish…”

“What? What do you wish?”

He sighed. “Perhaps…”

“Do NOT say I am too young!”

“I was not going to, Ma’am. But perhaps some wishes should not be given voice.”

“Tell me. I wish you to voice it,” she whispered. “I wish to know it all.”

He leaned his forehead against hers again with a sigh. “Perhaps I will tell you tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead.

“No…” it came out in a whine as she sensed her dismissal.

“You must go,” he whispered, eyes pleading. “For I do not trust myself in your presence any more this night.” One hand landed on her face again, cupping her cheek, stroking her lips with his thumbs as he licked his own. “You are far too enticing,” he breathed the words, eyes on her mouth. “And I have had far more of your sweetness this night than I ever should have had. Victoria…your beauty bewitches me. The sight of your body, the feeling of you beneath my hands, the heat of your body upon my leg…I am entirely undone, Ma’am.”

Her eyes closed as he stroked his thumb back and forth across her mouth. Slowly. Feeling her lips. Caressing them thoughtfully. She opened them again to find his dark eyes upon her, a look of such naked hunger in his face that her breath caught.

“So you see,” he whispered. “I am no longer a trustworthy companion for you this night. I want from you what I have no right to seek. Should never have. What you never should have teased me with. For it has set my appetite alight. And it is bottomless.”

Fire arched through her at his words. And she sat mesmerized by the satyr-like expression that had settled on his features.

“Go,” he whispered. “Leave me now. While I am still capable of gallantry.”

“I shall go to bed,” she heard herself whisper, stroking his face lightly with her hand, watching his eyes close in pleasure at her touch. “If you will come and…tuck me in. For I am tired and do not feel as if I can entirely make it upon my own.”

“I cannot, Ma’am,” he whispered against her lips, his words jagged and broken. “I dare not!”

“And I cannot tear myself from your side.” The words came out in a rush of breath. Straight from her heart. Hardly audible.

“Victoria, I am in earnest, Ma’am. You must leave. Now. God help me go now!"

“I think I cannot.” She whispered. Then leaning in ever so slightly, she touched her lips to his. Kissed him lightly, tugging against them as he had done her, capturing his lower lip between her own and sucking lightly. Savoring the taste of him. 

His response was immediate. He groaned. Loud and long, and deep in his throat. A sound of almost animal abandon. It shocked her. Excited her. Deep inside herself, the molten heat he had stoked all night threatened an eruption. She answered the sound with a sigh of her own. Breathy and light as she released him.

His eyes were bottomless. Fathomless dark pools as he regarded her a moment. He had gone completely still. So had she. Both hardly breathing. Victoria sensed dimly that they were poised on the blade of a knife. Had she tipped them over the edge? Had they both crossed an invisible threshold from which there was no return? She wished for it. Hoped for it. Held her breath, watching him. 

_Please,_ she thought at him. _Please do not leave me tonight._

Then suddenly, without warning, he pulled her into his kiss. “Go,” he croaked the word as he released her just as suddenly as he had begun the kiss, “Now. For the love of all that is holy, you must!”

“Very well,” she said, a wicked idea coming to her, bringing a smile to her lips. “I shall go. But I shall require your assistance.”

His eyes opened and she saw his throat move as he swallowed hard.

“You did say that you were good with corsets. Particularly with…removing them.” She smiled at him.

He did not speak, but a sound that was half moan, half groan, escaped him.

“I shall therefore require your…expertise…in the removing of mine. For it is far too severely tied for me to sleep in it, and I cannot remove it on my own. And,” she said, placing little kisses on his cheek, on his eyes, “You have been demoted to Queen’s Dresser after all,” she whispered, “therefore it is your duty to serve me thus.”

He gave no response as he watched her rise from his lap and hold her hands out to him.

“Come, Lord M. For I shall not be able to manage on my own tonight.”

A beat passed between them. Two.

“Very well,” he said in a hushed tone full of meaning. “It shall be as you wish it…Ma’am.”

And he reached out and took her offered hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, oh yes. The moment of decision has come...


	7. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dearie me. They've gone and done it now!
> 
> *NSFW. Repeat: NSFW. Strong heat advisory, with increasing NSFW in subsequent chapters*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In the silence of your room  
> In the darkness of your dreams  
> You must only think of me  
> There can be no in between
> 
> When your pride is on the floor  
> I'll make you beg for more
> 
> Stay with me..."  
> (”Stay”, Shakespear's Sister, 1992)

Chapter 7—Stay

She drew him forward, into her bed chamber, his eyes locked with hers. Her pulse was pounding and her mind was set, and as her gaze held his she was filled with the most profound sense of rightness. Once across her threshold, he released her hands and turned to close her doors, bolting them. He turned back to her slowly, as if he were walking in a trance. Not quite believing where he found himself.

She wrung her hands, her heart now misgiving. What if he did not wish to—? What if…

“If you wish to…that is…”

He crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, silencing her doubts with a kiss that scorched her. Left her in no doubt of his desires.

“I believe you require my assistance…Ma’am,” he whispered in her ear, taking her earlobe between his lips, pulling her close to him, his hands upon her back.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. “As you see, my gown is fastened up the back. I cannot reach…”

His hands had already begin their work, loosening her dress with measured slowness, one button at a time as his lips caressed her ear, her jaw, and proceeded down her throat, worshiping her with every touch. By the time he had reached the last clasp, she could hardly breathe, so lost was she in his kisses.

“There Ma’am,” he breathed against her cheek. “Your dress is now free.” He swallowed, moving back from her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes on her body.

She watched him raptly as his hands slid down over her shoulders, pulling her dress free of them until it fell of its own accord, sliding down her silhouette in a whisper of blue silk to pool on the floor at her feet. His eyes drank her in, devouring her corseted form.

He let out a ragged breath, and at last raised his eyes to hers. Laying his hands lightly on her waist, thumbs circling, he drew her close again. “I believe you requested assistance with your corset, Ma’am.”

“I did,” she replied in a whisper.

His hands circled around her, drawing her warmly against him, his eyes locked with hers as his hands found the laces and began slowly to release them. But this time he did not kiss her; he simply stood, embracing her lightly, holding her in his gaze instead. The feeling of his strong hands upon her left her spellbound as slowly she drowned in the depths of his eyes. There was no doubt in them now--only certainty and a passion that undid her, as lace by lace, he loosened her corset. And in those breathless moments, she gazed into him, and he into her, and she relived every moment they had ever spent together, from the very beginning until now. 

Yes. Here they were, at long last. Their old way of being together was dying with the passing of the old year, with every lace that he loosened. And as the new year dawned in its place, so did their relationship begin anew. A glorious phoenix, rising up from the ashes of their friendship, they would be reborn this night--as lovers. 

Suddenly she felt the pressure against her torso release entirely, and she gasped. He stepped back a moment, his hands on the garment, tugging lightly. As she stood still locked in his gaze, lost in the depths of his eyes, her corset fell free at her feet, leaving her only in stockings and shift, quaking slightly, before her Prime Minister.

"There," he said in a whisper. "You are free now, Ma'am."

"I am," she whispered in return, still lost in his eyes.

He leaned in cupping her face lightly with his hand, and kissed her with aching sweetness. And in his kiss, Victoria tasted his heart. His love for her pouring through, entirely naked, nothing held back from her. The depth of his devotion, his longing—it flattened her. Left her speechless. And when he pulled away, she felt the dampness on her own cheeks.

She caressed his, and his eyes closed at her touch. Then she reached for him again, seeking his lips, the perfection of his kiss. He bent and gave them to her. And again she tasted his open heart. Nothing. Nothing he would refuse her. Not even his life. She kissed him back, willing him to feel the same from her. Willing him to know how deeply she loved him in return.

He drew in a ragged breath when she released him, and he rested his head against hers, a smile tugging his lips, something like joy touching his eyes.

“Now," he whispered at last, "It is time you were in bed, Ma’am. For the night is deep and cold.”

“Indeed it is, Lord M.”

“I do not wish for you to catch cold, Ma’am.”

“Nor do I. Will you tuck me in tonight?”

“Is that also the job of a Queen’s Dresser?”

“Perhaps not,” she smiled. “But if I decide to make your demotion a permanent one, it would be your particular duty, certainly.”

“I cannot think of a more pleasant demotion. Or a better duty.” He smiled at her. “Very well. Put your arms around my neck, Ma’am, and hold on.”

She did, and he slid his hands down her body, over her bottom, to her legs. And lifted. Spreading her thighs astride him, pressing her flat against his body, until she felt…and she gasped.

He grinned at her then, eyebrows waggling as he purred like a large cat. And kissed her again. Kissing her all the while, he carried her to her bed, laying her down upon it.

But she did not release him. Her breathing was labored suddenly, having felt him—so hard, so hot—against her right there, she could not bear for him to go away.

“I fear I am still cold,” she breathed.

“You are still atop your covers, Ma’am,” he replied, grinning wickedly at her as if divining her thoughts.

“My covers are colder still.”

“Not when the heat of your body warms them,” he said, eyes dropping to her breasts.

“The heat of my body is insufficient…on its own. For I am too small, you see. And my bed is large and cold…and empty.”

“Then you require additional assistance to warm it.”

“I do.”

“Shall I send for Skerrett? To fetch you a warming pan?” he whispered in her ear, kissing it lightly.

“No…for it is late and doubtless she is abed.”

“Doubtless.”

“And it would raise questions as to your presence.”

“It would indeed.”

“But you are so large. And so very hot, Lord M.”

He groaned in her ear.

“I am indeed, Your Majesty,” he whispered. “I fear I have a fever. From which I am burning with the heat of a thousand suns.”

“What a happy coincidence then,” she said with a smile. “For it seems we could be…of use to each other.”

“Indeed we could,” he purred.

“For as you say, you do not wish for me to catch cold.”

“No I do not. Most emphatically.”

“Then you could warm my bed. And my body. And keep me from illness which the cold night without you most assuredly threatens.”

“Your comfort and health are my only priority, Ma’am.”

“And perhaps in return I could...soothe you…ease your fevered burning…and we could finish most comfortably.”

He groaned again.

“Yes we could,” he said finally, his mouth hot on her neck. “Oh yes, we could.”

“But if you come to bed with me so fully attired, would it not be…an impediment to your comfort?”

Another groan. “Oh it would indeed, Ma’am.”

“Shall I assist you then, in becoming more comfortable?”

“Assist me…oh, please _God,_ assist me, Ma’am.”

She smiled, raising up and taking the velvet of his waistcoat in hand. He broke away from her with a smile that was lazy, and far more sensual than she had ever seen him wear.

“Oh dear. I fear I have forgotten how to undress myself, Ma’am,” he said, his eyes heavily lidded. “I fear I am becoming quite idiotic in my dotage. Therefore you will have to assist me unaided.”

“You are not in your dotage,” she said with a giggle, hands on the buttons of his waistcoat, making him grin all the wider.

“In my cups perhaps?” He said with a lift of his brows.

“You do not seem so.”

“Hmm. Awash in lust then.”

“Definitely.” She grinned at him as she released his waistcoat.

They both chuckled as she pressed it over his broad, muscled shoulders.

“We both are.” She said as she ran her hands slowly down his chest, feeling the buttons of his shirt as well as the solidness of his body beneath, his eyes watching her all the while.

“You are too innocent to be awash with lust, Ma’am.” He said, leaning back on his hands and letting her reach for him. “Oh dear. I fear you are too far away to accomplish your task from there, Ma’am. You will have to come closer.”

“But I cannot,” she said giggling. “Unless I climb right into your lap.”

“Well…I suppose that is what you must do then.” He cocked his eyebrows at her in challenge, in that way that she always found so adorable.

“Hmm,” she said, pretending to frown at his lap. He was sitting back on his legs with his knees thrust forward at her, leaning well back on his hands. In such a posture his manhood was prominently displayed as his eyes almost dared her closer. She found she could not stop gazing at him. “Well I suppose I could just…” She raised up on her own knees beside him and threw her leg over his lap, seating herself astride him. The moment she did, his manhood was again pressed hot and heavy right against her—with only his placard between them.

A sigh escaped her, and he moaned deep in his throat--an almost primal sound of pleasure--his eyes closing and his head dropping backward. He raised his eyes to hers…and rolled his hips beneath her, sliding himself against her.

“Ohhh!!!” Her own head went back. Her body exploded in sensation. She was unable to move as the sensations rippled through her body. He rubbed against her right where she had been throbbing...against her woman's heat...leaving her gasping.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” his voice was rough, and slid into her ears the same way his body slid against hers…sending sparks of pleasure rolling through her. “The movement was necessary.”

She could not respond. She was still trying to catch her breath.

He did it again.

“Oh God!”

“Ooh. Oh dear. I fear I had to move again.” His voice had a wicked tone. 

He did it again. She could not speak. Only feel. She was paralyzed atop him. Her body waiting, longing for him to do it again. Keep creating such a beautiful friction against her body…

* * *

What a glorious sight she was. Astride him as he ground against her. Hell’s teeth she was wet! So beautifully wet he could feel it soaking into his breeches. God how he wanted to be rid of them and feel it against himself instead!

He raised up, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her open-mouthed, sliding her against himself again, his hands on her bottom, his tongue in her mouth. Temptress! She had every instinct of a vixen. He had always known as much. She was a sensual creature. One who needed a man like himself to awaken it. To feed it and revel in it with her. God, what a bewitching woman she was!

“I want…I want…”

“What do you want, Victoria? Tell me. It is yours.” His mouth was on her neck. His body throbbed for her. Screamed for her. It was a mandate he was fast losing the ability to ignore.

“To feel your skin against mine,” she whispered. “Please…”’

He released his hold on her and quickly removed his shirt. She climbed off of him and he stood to remove his breeches. He did so, allowing himself a moment of pride at the appreciative way she gazed upon his naked form. He stood before her eyes, letting her look her fill, letting her see what was hers. Normally well endowed by nature’s kindness as he was, tonight he seemed even more so. Even to him, his erection felt enormous. When she reached out inquisitive fingertips and stroked him lightly, feeling him, he thought he would come right there. He bit his lip.

She found the bead of moisture at its tip. Rubbing it. Swirling her fingers around him.

“Victoria…” _Grip me. Let me feel your soft little hands wrap around me, tightly. So tightly._

As if divining his thoughts, she did just that.

God he almost sank to his knees!

“Does this feel good?” She asked.

“Yes!” he managed, fighting down the urge to move against her, to cover her hands in his and teach her how to touch him. A thousand other erotic, filthy thoughts filled his mind. But if he gave into them, he was lost. He took deep breaths.

 _Slowly. Gently,_ he told himself. He must make this special for her. Let her explore him. It must be loving between them. Not the heat of lust. Not the first time. He would come to her patiently. Teaching her slowly. It must be about her. He would make it about her if it killed him.

He felt himself start to sweat as he stifled a moan.

She looked up at the sound that did escape him and smiled. Then she stood, releasing him, and pulled her shift off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.

His breath left him in a whoosh.

_Dear God!_

The woman he loved more than life itself was now naked before him, in all her blushing, maidenly perfection. Here was his girl Queen. A girl no longer. A woman. Her blue eyes soft with love and a trust that undid him. The Queen of his heart would now be his entirely.

Her first. His last. For after tonight he knew in the depths of his soul that there could never be another for him ever again.

With trembling hands he reached for her.

* * *

She found herself scooped up into his arms and back upon the bed before she even knew what happened.

“My beautiful Queen,” he rasped against her throat. “How you take my breath away!”

“As you do mine,” she said.

He dropped his face into her hair, nuzzling against her neck and sighing. 

"We must--Victoria. Do you have any rags here in your room?"

"Rags?"

"For washing, or..."

"Oh. Yes. Why?"

He raised his face, smoothed her hair with his hand and sat back. "Fetch them. They will be needed."

She slid off the bed with trembling limbs and went to her bureau. Returned to him, bewildered. He laid them down on her coverlet, forming a large area, then beckoned her again.

"Lay down upon them," he instructed. 

"Why?"

"There is usually some bleeding associated with the loss of your maidenhead," he said frankly. "These can be tidied away much more discreetly than your coverlet can be cleaned."

"I had not...that is, I did not know."

"You are still sure?"

"If you are."

He smiled down at her, covered her warmly and kissed her.

“What we both want this night cannot be undone," he whispered. "Are you truly still sure?"

She touched his face lightly, trailing her fingers from his eyebrows, down to his jaw. His beautiful face. His gentle eyes. 

"Of course I am sure."

"You honor me. Far beyond my worth." He nuzzled her. Kissed her with reverence. "There could be some pain. Ma'am."

"I do not mind pain. So long as you are inside of me." He shuddered as she kissed his cheek, planted a sweet kiss on his lips. "Please, my William. My darling Lord M. It must be you. It could only be you."

He kissed her once more in return, nuzzled against her again. Then he pulled back, holding her eyes with his as he had done before when he undressed her, and thrust himself forward against her.

They both gasped. Victoria’s eyes flew wide to feel him enter her. Her fingertips flew again to his cheek, touching his beloved face. He held her eyes steady, soft with love as he thrust again, and she felt a tearing sensation inside, followed by a stinging. It quickly faded, and then there was only…

_Him._

And with another thrust of his hips, he filled her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes. There will be more.


	8. Love Thy Will Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuance. 
> 
> *Seriously, NSFW. Heat advisory continues in earnest.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love, thy will be done  
> I can no longer hide  
> I can no longer run
> 
> No longer can I resist your guiding light  
> That gives me the power to keep up the fight
> 
> Love, thy will be done…”  
> (Martika/Prince, 1991).

Chapter 8—Love Thy Will Be Done

His kiss was hot and possessive as his trembling hands found her face, trailed over her features with infinite tenderness, his mouth coaxing and caressing her with something like reverence as slowly, ever so slowly, he began to move within her.

She cried out against his lips. His every movement rippling through her body like the swirls and eddies of the tide against the shore. Exquisite. Perfect. Transcendent. She touched his cheek in wonder, and he smiled, his eyes filled with a gentle passion as he nuzzled close to her.

"When I do something you like, tell me," he whispered. "Likewise if you do not. Never be afraid to tell your lover how he makes you feel. He wants to please you...needs to please you. Your pleasure is his own." He kissed her softly, drinking in her gasps and sighs, sighing himself into her.

He was her lover now. She had dreamed this for so long. Longed for it. Ached for it. And now, he was here. Here where he belonged. Here where she always knew he would be. 

"Oh Lord M..." she whispered, "My darling Lord M. William!" She moaned, her body arching into him as he picked up his pace a little, finding a steady, rolling rhythm, rocking himself deeper and deeper inside of her. Soon she was moving with him, their bodies in accord, seeking each other, giving and taking, wanting more. Oh, so much more...

He was sighing too, and the knowledge that her body pleased him exhilarated her. Her hands slid over his powerful, strong shoulders, down the straight, firm muscles of his back in something like disbelief. How could this magnificent man be all hers? They drifted down to his hips, fascinated by their movement as he rocked inside of her, exploring, luxuriating in the knowledge that they now belonged to each other. That he was inside of her, and they were joined. 

Forever. He would be hers forever! For she would never let him go. His eyes held hers as she caressed him, smiling down on her, more pleased than she had ever seen him. 

"Do you like this?" He whispered with a smile as he moved inside of her, knowing the answer already.

"Yes!!" she cried, arching against him. "Oh God, yes!"

He purred as he nuzzled her. "Ohhh my Queen...you are so beautiful. How shamefully I have longed for this. You are my angel. My every fantasy come true." He bent to kiss her again, his mouth hungry on hers this time, opening against her. She did, and his tongue slid into her mouth, filling her in both places, setting her body afire.

Victoria melted into him, ceasing to exist outside their connection. He held her tethered to the world as she floated, awash with the beauty of the feelings he created in her. 

He had ever been her tether. When all the world discounted her, it was he who believed in her. He alone who empowered her. Who encouraged and cheered her. Who could look deep inside of her, far past the queen and into the woman. He alone who understood. Appreciated. Respected.

Loved her.

His presence alone could fill her with confidence, could banish any doubt, any fear. As long as he was there, she could face anything the world could throw at her with fortitude and strength.

She never wanted to face the world without him again. 

“Don't stop,” she heard herself whisper against his cheek. “Oh, never stop! Oh God, William! I could never have enough of you!”

A shiver ran through him and he moaned. Then she gasped to feel him thrust harder.

"Yes!" She heard herself cry, her head dropping backwards of its own accord as a moan ripped from her throat. It was so good. He was so good! "Just like that! Oh please, do it again!"

He made a guttural sound of deep male satisfaction as he complied, dropping his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Yes!" He said, his voice raspy. "That's it. Tell me. Talk to me! Tell me what I do to you!"

She no longer recognized her own voice as she answered him, nor the mewling sounds she made as his pace picked up and his movements became sharper, harder. She clawed at his shoulders, writhing beneath him. Oh, dear God, she had never envisioned such heaven as this existed! She wanted it never to end! She wanted more and more and more and _more_ of him!

Her response sent him into a frenzy, his movements in her relentless, driving, growing more powerful. She cried out to him, losing control, her body wild with need. His movements inside of her plunging her into a madness from which she never wanted to return. 

The words poured from her lips, unfiltered. This was what she wanted! Him! Oh, only he. Only he could make her feel this way! Always it had been him...oh, how she adored him! Loved him! And now...oh, and now...he was here, moving in her just this way…filling her…it was everything she had ever wanted…it was so perfect!…..So very right and _ohhhhh GOD YESSS!!!!_

“LORD…. _M!_ ”

She screamed his name and shattered against him into a thousand glittering fragments.

* * *

He was spellbound. Her words wrapped around him along with her body, seeping deep into his heart. To hear such endearments from her lips! He could have wept...he probably would later, when his body was again cold and alone. But now...oh now...he was lost. 

He cried out with her, her body squeezing him as she went to pieces all around him. Her hands on his hips, pulling, urging. Her body bucking against him, meeting him stroke for stoke. He watched in great satisfaction as he brought her to her first ever orgasm, watched the very moment her pleasure took her. Pleasure at _his_ hands! The moment she came for him, all for him--her body wild, her head thrown back, crying out his name--it was too much! Too much!

"Oh my queen! My QUEEN!" He cried out. He needed to pull out--now! But she gripped him so perfectly…so bloody perfectly. He could not...he could not bear to pull himself out. He buried his face in her neck, in the silk of her hair with a groan, giving in to his own weakness, conceding to the mandates of his body, his pace quickening, thrusting hard and deep, the wet friction between them so exquisite he could not stop. Could not...help...himself...

One. Two. Thr—

He shuddered, and screamed her name against her shoulder as his own climax rocked him with staggering force. His seed exploded inside of her, harder than he had ever experienced. His orgasm was so strong it blinded him temporarily, left him a shivering wreck, weak and spent. He managed to keep himself from crushing her, but could not resist laying his cheek against her breast. When he could see again, he raised his face to hers. He found his queen looking into his eyes with such a beautiful expression of breathless wonder that it made him smile. Made him as proud as a cockerel. He kissed her honey sweet lips, happier in the moment then he had any right to be. Just for a moment...just for tonight...she was his. He curled his body around hers, cradling her. His foolish, adorable queen. His hand cupped her cheek, and her own came to rest on top of his, pressing him closer. 

“I’m afraid the deed is done, Ma’am. For better or worse,” he rasped against her cheek. 

“For better,” she said instantly, her hand drifting to his hair, brushing it back from his face with shattering tenderness. “Definitely for the better. My William."

 _Yes,_ he thought as her lips sought his own. _I am. And I always shall be. Entirely yours._

* * *

He resettled his head on the pillow of her breast with such obvious pleasure it made her laugh.

“What? Am I too heavy?” His words were slurred.

“No. Never.” She said, trailing her fingers through his damp curls, a feeling of the greatest peace and completion she had ever felt making her feel heavy and sated.

“Then pray, explain your giggles, Ma’am. Lest they wreak havoc on my self-confidence.”

“How can your confidence be in any doubt of my affections now, Lord M?” 

“Because a man’s ego is never so vulnerable as it is in the aftermath of lovemaking, Ma’am. When he is far less majestic than before and all his energy has been spent in pleasuring you.”

“Your energies have been very well employed, as I think you are well aware, my Lord Melbourne. And you are just as majestic now as you have ever been. Surely your ego is safe with me.”

“On the contrary. My ego is more vulnerable to you than it has ever been with anyone.” He raised his eyes to hers, and smoothed her own hair back from her face with his hand. “For you are deeper inside my heart than anyone. Therefore I live and die by your opinions." 

"Then pray, live, My Darling. For I adore you. I laughed because your enjoyment of my breasts was endearing, nothing more."

He huffed a laugh himself at this, then bent to caress the one nearest him with his cheek, sighing happily. "Yes. I do plan to enjoy them more fully in future. But I was so roused this time I could not. My God, Ma’am, how devilishly you roused me with this evening’s entertainments!” His mouth landed on hers again and he kissed her languidly, open-mouthed, his tongue idly playing with hers. It was the kiss of one lover to another, a kiss of the greatest intimacy and affection, a casually passionate kiss between two people who had already enjoyed so much together, and knew they would again.

“And did you think I was not roused?” She asked as he broke away. “Now that I know what you are speaking of, I believe I can say with authority that you rouse me merely by your presence. Every time you enter a room that I am already occupying.”

He kissed her again happily.

“As you do me,” he whispered with a smile. “Now, with two people already so roused by the other with only the most casual contact…can you see what mischief you created tonight?”

“Clearly. For here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are, indeed.” He smiled, kissed her once more. Then with a sigh, pulled himself out of her.

"Must you go?" She said with a frown.

"Yes. I am afraid so," he smiled at her. "But I appreciate the sentiment. And I fear we have made a mess of your bed, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” She said in dismay, looking down.

“Do not fear. It is a normal consequence of losing your virginity. And why, indeed, we made use of the rags." 

She stood, and taking one of the cloths that had been relatively untouched, removed herself to her privy closet for a moment. When she had reemerged, it was to see that he had cleared the rags away into a pile, and her bedding beneath looked untouched.

"Do you have a servant who can be discreet?” He said removing a handkerchief from his pile of clothing and disappearing himself into her privy closet for a moment.

“Yes. Skerrett can, I am sure.”

“Then summon her first thing in the morning and put the rags directly into her hands. Do not let anyone else see. And raise her salary. Much will depend on her continued discretion.” He reappeared, tossing the handkerchief aside.

“I will, for she has earned her weight in gold, already. But no matter if she should shout from the rooftops of her discovery, I should never regret this night.”

“You will truly never regret?” He asked with a smile, climbing into bed with her again.

“I will not,” she said with conviction.

“Then neither will I.” He touched her face lightly with one hand. "And did I…please you at all, Ma’am?” He smiled a little shyly at her.

“Oh yes you did. You pleased me very well indeed.” She said with conviction, nuzzling him. "As you are very well aware. My darling Lord M."

He purred against her neck, whispering in her ear. “And what would you say if I said I wanted to go on pleasing you, hmm? Tonight…and otherwise?”

“I would say it is very fortuitous, considering I wish you to go on pleasing me forever.” She nuzzled his cheek. “I may order you indeed to remain in my bed for the next fortnight at least.”

He chuckled. “Whatever would we tell the Privy Council, Ma’am? To say nothing of my party, at my sudden disappearance from public life?”

“That you have been reassigned to a party of a more private and important nature, elsewhere. Until further notice.”

He chuckled against her and kissed her happily. “Minx. If only it were that simple.”

“There, you see? Your ego is quite safe with me. For I can never have enough of you.”

“Nor I you,” he smiled.

They kissed again, and he lay down upon his back, pulling her down to rest upon his chest.

“Why can it not be so simple? Why can you not marry me, Lord M?”

“It would enrage your subjects, for one,” he said, running his hand hotly up her arm and down again.

“Would they be more pleased with a queen who never marries? Because that is what they are facing if I cannot have you. And that is the only choice they shall be presented with.”

“God how I love your tenacious spirit, Ma’am,” he said chuckling. “God help anyone who ever crosses you.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

He released her and she sat up to gaze into his eyes. He blinked up at her solemnly.

“But an hour ago I might have said no,” he said softly. “Though it would have killed me to do so. But now…everything is changed.”

“Indeed it is. And yet not so very much. For our feelings are the same as they have always been.”

“True. But now our feelings and desires have become action. And we have committed an act here tonight which cannot be undone. Nor can it be easily put aside. For either of us.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

“No. It cannot.”

He sighed. “I would say I’m sorry, but…it would be untrue.”

“I am not sorry.”

“No. Neither of us is. Nor should we be. Only in the manner in which it has come about. I would have made you my wife first, and done so long ago if the option had been open to me. I would have you know that.”

“I do. Of course I do. You do not even need to say it.”

“Our circumstances are damnable,” he said running his hand through his hair and sitting up. “There is no easy course open to us, except the one we both abandoned the moment we stepped into your bedchamber tonight.”

“We abandoned that course long before,” she said with conviction. “You know we did.”

“But the decision to act upon it—”

“Was inevitable.”

He huffed a laugh, conceding her point with a lift of his eyebrows. "Well. Perhaps not inevitable. But certainly foreseeable."

“Most certainly. Therefore marry me, Lord M. Let us not waste time and energy in secrecy. I wish to spend every night with you. I wish to have no one gainsay our right to do so. I wish you and I to go on being lovers. Regardless of who hears us, or comes upon us unannounced.”

At this he chuckled. “God forbid, Ma’am, that any should come upon us!”

“But if you are kissing me so gorgeously over the dispatch boxes and the door opens…”

“Yes I understand your point.” He smiled. “You are quite sure this is what you wish?”

Victoria loved the happiness in his eyes. Though he was still cautious, and no doubt worrying about the consequences, there was joy and hope there, and his expression was remarkably clear of melancholy. He seemed younger even. It made her heart happy.

“Quite sure,” she said, her voice adamant.

“In that case, I would be honored to accept. You know I can refuse you nothing, in any case. Though you must know, Ma’am, there will be troubles ahead.”

“There will always be troubles ahead,” she said with a shake of her head. “There would have been in any case, even had you refused me. I would much rather face them with you, than without you. And after tonight, I know I cannot ever again live without you. My William. It is your rightful, honored place by my side that I ask you to take. That we may acknowledge each other openly and without shame.”

He shook his head. “Openly, yes. But without shame…I do not think that will ever be so. Our marriage will offend many. And possibly cost you the crown. Am I truly worth all of that to you, if it comes to be so?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“But…” he blinked hard. “I know you do not like me to acknowledge the fact but it must be stated. I am older than you and…my time may not be long enough to justify a lifetime of being without. Not only will you have lost me on that unhappy future day, but your birthright as well.”

“Whereas if I do not marry you I merely lose what time and happiness I could have with you, is that it?”

He sighed. Stroked her cheek. “My darling love…”

She leaned into his touch. “I cannot live without you, William. I know someday I must perhaps, but do not ask me to make the sacrifice early. While we still can have each other.”

He pulled her in and kissed her.

“Yes my love,” he whispered against her. “A thousand times, yes.”

“You have made me the happiest woman in the world,” she said nuzzling him. “Twice over, in one night.”

“Care to make it three times?” He purred in her ear. “There is still much I want to show you…this time, I want to savor you.”

“And you did not before?”

“Before, I was far too needy,” he said against her mouth. “Starved as I was for you when this night began, and worked into madness by your charms before we ever set foot in here. But now…now that we have eased ourselves, now that you are deflowered…now, we can take our time...and play.” He kissed her again, and backed away, smoothing her hair with his hands happily. “Sex is meant to be a feast of the senses, my love. A delight from which one draws nourishment and rejuvenation from one’s lover as well as affirmation. And a man who is worth his salt in bed derives a great deal of his own pleasure from the pleasure of his partner. Her enjoyment multiplies his own. He should wish to please her. Should go to great lengths to do so.” He gave her a slow smile, his eyebrows lifting momentarily as he regarded her, and she knew instantly he was teasing her.

“For shame, Lord M!” She giggled helplessly. “Though I do agree. You go to great lengths indeed." She waggled her own eyebrows at him. 

“Only for you...Ma'am,” He chuckled a little, his eyes on her. “Dear God, but you are a magnificent creature. I always knew you would be such...but I never thought I would have first hand knowledge of the fact.”

“Your imagination is very active, Lord M." She said, kissing his cheek happily. "And very naughty."

“And entirely given over to you."

“Well. I suppose I shall not punish you. Considering I did the same…although I had very little notion of what I was fantasizing about. Mostly, I just wanted to be close to you. And I wanted very much for you to kiss me.”

He smiled, and again she was pleased to see the genuine happiness in his countenance. “Ah. The innocent longings of a young virgin. How sweetly you honor me, Ma’am. And I such a wicked old scut, not worthy at all of such maidenly desires.”

“I am innocent no longer.”

“No. Part of me is sad for it. But the rest of me is delighted. And most especially that I had the honor to awaken you into your full womanhood.” He grinned.

“It could never have been otherwise. I would not let another man be so with me. Only you. Do you not feel it always was to be so?”

“I feel I was always to desire it. But that in the end, you would come to your senses and turn your eyes from me.” A ghost of a smile chased across his face. “I knew it would happen sometime. But I feared it. I longed for it to be otherwise. And everyday when I kissed your hand in greeting and rose to see in your eyes that nothing had changed, I felt myself relax—content to live in the moment. And to know that for this day at least, you were still mine.”

“I shall always be yours,” she kissed his cheek. “Always.”

“Yes. Now you shall.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're not finished yet. Stay tuned...


	9. World in My Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not finished yet. 
> 
> This is a very long chapter I know, but I couldn't find a good place to cut it down. So I hope you will accept it as is. It is, quite frankly, a completely unnecessary indulgence. But they wanted it. So I'm giving it to them. 
> 
> **NSFW. Literally, the most NSFW thing I have ever written. Heat index is akin to the surface of the sun. Read with caution.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I'll take you to the highest mountain  
> To the depths of the deepest sea  
> And we won't need a map  
> Believe me
> 
> Now let my body do the moving  
> And let my hands do the soothing  
> Let me show you the world in my eyes…”
> 
> (”World In My Eyes”, Depeche Mode, 1990)

Chapter 9—World in My Eyes

He released her with a smile. Brushing her hair back from her face. _His._ She truly was his now. He bent to kiss the tip of her cute, upturned nose. Despite all the opposition he knew would come against them, there truly was no other course open to them now. Oh, they could decide between them that this would never happen again. But he knew better. They would not stay away from each other now. They could not. To add to it, he’d not only deflowered her but he had also spilled his seed inside of her. Despite his advancing years, the possibility did still exist that he could father a child. So even if she had not done so tonight, if they remained lovers, there was a high likelihood she would eventually conceive. How then, could he conscience himself to refuse her, simply on that basis alone? To say nothing of how deeply he loved her and wanted her for his own?

No. There were no easy options open anymore. Having come so far together now, the most respectable course open to them was marriage. How could he ask her to be anything less than his wife now?

Resolutely, he pushed aside all the screaming voices in his head that insisted this was a disaster of epic proportions, that they would never be allowed to marry, that he had thrown his queen into the worst kind of disgrace conceivable, and would no longer even be in a position to protect her once the sordid details came to light. It did no use, in any case, to ruminate on such things. Their die was cast. The action, committed. There was no going back for either of them now. No matter which way they set their course, the sailing would be anything but smooth. Marriage between them was the best they could do to salvage the situation, however unlikely that outcome might be.

Still. He was fool enough to hope. Indeed, his foolish old heart could not be persuaded otherwise, and with every beat insisted--demanded--that the sweet bundle of woman in his arms was his. _Must_ be his. That there could be no other outcome.

She was the only thing in his life that brought meaning to his existence. That made him happy to greet each new dawn, that filled his heart with hope again. To Melbourne indeed, it was as if Victoria had burst into the darkened, disused parlour of his life, with its furniture covered over and forgotten, unloved and uncared for, and marched straight to its windows, drawing the drapes well back, flooding him with the blinding light of the sun. Then she'd simply turned around and smiled--dazzling him twice over, bringing him kicking and screaming back to life.

No. He could not bear to part from her now. Not after this night's consummation. Losing her would kill him outright. 

She was nuzzled against his chest, running her fingers through his chest hair, combing it thoughtfully. She turned her lips to him every so often and kissed his chest with a sigh of such utter contentment that it melted his heart, and all his common sense along with it. Here was the Queen of England, his reason screamed. He was but a lowly viscount. And the damned Prime Minister! What the devil was he doing here, in her bed? Claiming her virginity?! As if he had the right!

He was well and truly mad. Mad, and utterly damned along with it.

He stroked the silky tresses of her hair. Yes. She was who she was. And he, himself. And nothing could ever alter that. But she was also his beautiful little love. And now, nothing could alter that fact either. And it mattered now, what they were to each other. What they had just become in truth.

It pleased him mightily to watch her explore him. His body was pleasing to her, and it flattered his ego no end. She trailed a fingertip down his chest, finding his breast. Traced the nipple thoughtfully.

He sucked in a breath as she teased his nipple taut. 

“Does that feel good?” She asked huskily.

"Yes,” he smiled down at her. "Very good." He traced his own fingers lightly over her shoulder and down her back as far as he could comfortably reach. Her silky-smooth skin shone like pearl in the darkness. She was a goddess. And gilded as she was in moonlight and firelight, she could have been just that. A fey creature, too lovely to be of this world--too lovely to be real. "Every time you touch me it feels good." 

She favored him with vixenish smile as the tip of her pink tongue darted out from between her lips and licked him.

"Minx," he said under his breath. "God, you do learn fast."

"Ooh! I think I found something you like, Lord M." She did it again.

"When it comes to bed play, you would have an easier time to count things I don't like. Especially with you." A singular line of thought came to him, and he smiled, licking his lips quite unconsciously as he hooked her hair behind her ears.

"What is it?" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at him. 

“I have a sudden thirst, Ma’am.” He whispered.

“There is water, just there," she said, still trying to puzzle out what he was getting at. Damned if he'd tell her and spoil the surprise.

“I have a thirst for something a bit stronger.”

“Brandy?” She raised her face to nuzzle him. “Is there any left?”

“There is a whole bottle," he said with a sigh as she planted little kisses on his cheeks, his mouth, his chin, her hair streaming down around them.

“Shall I fetch it from the other room?”

“No. I shall. You stay here,” he told her with a kiss, withdrawing himself from her with reluctance and leaving her bed, smiling into her eyes. What a picture she was, sitting up naked, entirely at ease, with her perfect breasts framed by the soft waves of her hair, smiling at him as if he was the most magnificent man in the world. God forbid she ever discover the truth of it, and leave him now. 

She could not know, of course, the lascivious turn of his thoughts. Well. If they were to be married after all, it was best she knew his proclivities. In her sitting room, he banked the fire and retrieved all evidence of their secret debauchery and brought the damning evidence into her bedchamber. When again he bolted the door, he had removed from her outer room all of the clothing they had previously shed in their foreplay, as well as the champagne, the glasses and the brandy. In the case of anyone breaking in upon them unannounced, they would find nothing unusual at all in the outer chamber now, at least. 

Once in her room, they stashed the unopened champagne bottle in her wardrobe, and set the glasses and nearly empty bottle aside for Skerrett to take in the morning. The first bottle of brandy had a goodly amount left in it, so he stashed the other with the champagne, and poured himself a glass from the opened bottle, filling it to the brim. Taking a fortifying drink for himself, he regarded her over the edge of the glass. Then he filled it again, topped it off and set the empty bottle aside in the pile of discarded things.

Earlier in the evening, much earlier, he had had a singularly delightful fantasy he now meant to act upon.

_Her lips, dripping with brandy. Himself, sucking them dry…_

A more pleasant prelude to the activities he had in mind could scarce be conceivable.

“Care for a sip, Ma’am?”

* * *

He returned to the bed carrying a glass of brandy that was filled to the brim.

“Not as much as that,” she said, smiling.

His eyes held a curious, satyr-like expression as he held the glass down for her to sip.

“Mmm,” she said appreciatively, “you are right, of course. It is quite delicious. And so fruity.” She licked her lips, enjoying the flavor fully, surprised to see him watching her drink with such remarkable attention. The way his eyes glittered at her set her pulse racing. 

“It is. But there is of course, another way to enjoy the drink, Ma’am.”

“Is there indeed?”

“Shall I demonstrate?”

“Yes of course.”

She watched as he dipped his finger into the glass, and held it up, dripping with the drink, to her lips. Then deftly he swirled his finger around the whole of her mouth, painting her lips with it. Then his finger hovered before her, still coated with brandy.

“Suck me, Ma’am,” he whispered with a devilish grin.

Fascinated by this new side of him, she could hardly refuse. Victoria opened her mouth, drew his finger in between her lips, sucking the liquor from him, swirling her tongue around its tip, enjoying the taste of his brandy-coated finger very much indeed. And more than the taste--the feel of him in her mouth, the texture of him was heavenly. When she opened her eyes, she could see he had enjoyed it very much too. He drew his finger out and dipped it in the glass again, swirling around her lips until they were dripping with the drink and she sucked his finger dry again. This time he withdrew it quickly and captured her lips with his. With a growl that was almost animal, he kissed her, sucking and licking the brandy from her until her lips were clean.

All at once, the heat between them was back. She found it hard to breathe when he released her. So that was it. A new game. One she liked very much indeed.

"I have wanted all evening to do that," he whispered, kissing her again. 

“You are right, Lord M. This is a very fine way to enjoy brandy.”

With a smile of her own, she pulled back, dipped her own finger into the glass, and reached for his mouth as his eyes burned with appreciation. She painted his mouth with the drink, then leaned in and kissed him, feasting herself on his lips and his sighs, even as he had hers.

“God, what you do to me,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded when she released him.

She raised the glass again to dip her fingers. She bobbled suddenly, spilling the drink down her front.

“Oh dear,” she whispered. “How very careless I have been.”

His eyes followed the path of the narrow stream of liquid as it rolled down her chest, slipping between her breasts and beyond.

“Oh dear indeed.” He said, _sotto voce_ , “Stand up, Ma’am. Let us see how far it has gone.”

She stood on the side of the bed as he sat before her. Tutting. His hands on her body.

“This will not do at all. We must clean you up.”

“Yes indeed we must. What do you suggest?”

“Well...I could sponge you off, Ma'am, with a bit of cool water. Or...” he leaned into her, his hands on her bottom, pulling her forward as his hot, slick tongue lapped at her navel.

She sucked in a breath, her hands winding themselves into his curls.

He worked his way slowly up her body. Toward her breasts. Between them. Up her throat. To her mouth. His mouth gorgeous and wet as he worked his way over her skin, purring all the while, making her breathing shallow and her heart race. 

“There,” he whispered against her cheek. “All clean again.”

Victoria held his eyes and dipped her hand into the glass. First one, and then the other. Then her hands landed on her breasts, still holding his eyes as she slathered the drink on them until they dripped.

“Oh dear. Look what I have done now.”

He groaned and pulled her between his knees. Victoria’s eyes dropped down and she smiled. Yes. This was a very good game. He was enjoying it very much indeed.

So was she.

She cried out as his hot tongue lapped at her breast…first one and then the other. Swirling around and then drawing it into his mouth…and suckling. Fire ignited immediately inside of her and her knees buckled. He anticipated her response and caught her weight in his hands, holding her steady against him, supporting and kneading her flesh as he groaned against her, continuing to lavish his attentions on her breasts. She buried her hands in his hair again with a moan, gazing down on his dark head in wonder as he attended her, waking in her such divine heat that she could scarcely breathe. He released her breast with a pop, and turned to the other. The cold air kissed the one he abandoned, and that was pleasure too.

The heaven of his so very skillful mouth upon her body! It gave her an even more wicked thought. A very wicked thought, indeed. And once the thought took root, she could not dislodge it. It grew until it quite overcame her with curiosity, so that she could not but give into it. 

Her hand was already in the glass when he had finished, and as she held his eyes she anointed herself much farther down, on a place that was simmering with longing for his touch. But even in the heated haze of her desire, she felt an immediate wave of shame. What would he think of her...?

The breath left his body in a whoosh, his eyes fixed on her hand.

“Ohhhh God, yes. Oooh, what a naughty girl you are,” he purred. “Damnation,” he chuckled. “You learn so fast…Ma’am. More.”

She dipped her hand in, cupping a small amount of the liquid and splashed it on. Before she had even removed her hand, he was diving for her, his mouth upon her! Sucking and lapping, licking her fingers as well as her body.

Victoria cried out. Fire rippled through her—white hot at his touch. She felt herself crumple towards him helplessly.

Again, his hands anticipated her response, supporting, lifting her onto his lap, urging her forward towards him and the bed. Falling back himself so that she was kneeling over him, still unable to move. Unable to think.

He was sucking her…lapping against her body…knowing just where to touch her…where to lick. Her fingers were still frozen against herself, and at the delicious, wetness of his tongue, they began moving against herself of their own accord as he teased her, coaxing more sighs from him.

“That’s it…yes…oh God yes…” he purred, kissing and encouraging her. And she no longer cared about the wickedness of their play, losing herself in the glorious feeling building inside of her.

Then suddenly he was pressing her down against him on the bed with an animal growl, his tongue replacing her fingers and she removed her own hand.

His mouth! His tongue! His hands on her bottom, sliding between her legs, his fingers sliding against her now, and pressing into her, and drawing out again. And in…and then out…

She writhed on top of him. No longer able to control her body's response, or what came from her mouth. Now coaxing him, now wallowing in the pleasure he was creating in her, now sighing and mewling and groaning shamelessly against the onslaught of sensuality.

She could not stop it. Could not contain it…wanted it all. Wanted more. And more. And more!

Suddenly he was gone from her, and she found herself face down on the bed, one of his big hands spread on her backside, holding her lightly as his other hand came down somewhat harder.

SMACK!

She groaned loudly.

“You naughty, naughty girl!”

SMACK!

“Painting yourself with brandy!”

“God please!” She moaned again, still writhing, her bottom craving his hand. Her other parts craving his mouth…his fingers…needing him...

SMACK!

“Temptress!"

She was burning. Her body an inferno. And every touch of his hand fed the flames.

SMACK!

"So wicked! So hungry! For shame, My Queen!"

"Oh God! William!"

SMACK!

"My Lord Melbourne!" He corrected.

"Oh yes! My Lord, My Lord Melbourne!"

SMACK!

“What do you want, Victoria? Tell me!”

SMACK!

_“YOOOUU!”_

SMACK!

“How do you want me?”

“Touch me!”

SMACK!

“Tell me how…tell me where…”

“I want your lips! Your tongue! Your fingers! Here!”

SMACK!

“Say 'Please, My Lord!'”

“PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, My Lord! Oh, God PLEEEEEEEEEEASE!!”

She felt his hand land once more on her bottom then he rolled her onto her back and dived straight for her, purring and growling as again his mouth found the part of her that so desperately needed him. She cried out, wrapped her hands in his hair, her body, her mind ablaze.

This was sex?! This was intimacy! Oh, it was everything! Everything! Her Lord M...all the secrets of him finally revealed! To be this way with him at last! Oh, at last! He was hers! And this was how she wanted to be with him forever! Oh, forever and ever and ever and…

“Please,” she heard herself moan, “don’t stop! Don’t ever, ever stop!”

When his fingers pressed inside of her again, they found that place, that gorgeous, perfect place and…

She screamed. 

He didn’t stop—didn’t even pause--as she thrashed wildly beneath him, utterly undone. When the storm inside of her had entirely subsided, finally he released her, and then quickly she found herself on her belly again.

“Up on your knees, Victoria,” his breathing was labored and his voice rasping and urgent.

She scrambled up on noodly, shaking limbs to do as he wanted. He groaned as he pulled her bottom back to himself, his tongue once again finding her sensitive areas, laving across her until she cried out again. But then his mouth was gone, and he was there. Hard and long, pressing against her and then—

Inside of her—in one great thrust.

Oh God, he felt different this time! She bit her lip, her back arching up, seeking him, needing more as he pressed inexorably into her. Into a part of her still so exquisitely sensitive and glowing from all his attentions. It was beautiful enough to make her weep with pleasure with his slightest movement. When he thrust himself hard and deep, she cried out. It was perfect. He was so perfect!

He covered her with his warm body, his lips kissing a trail up her back as he moved in her, his hands circling around her, caressing her breasts as he groaned, and she felt a tremor of pleasure run through him.

"Oh my sweet love...dear God in heaven!" He seemed so helpless suddenly, so vulnerable as he whispered against her neck, filling her, thrusting hard, needing her as urgently as she did him. She wanted to turn--wanted to take him in her arms, to drown in his kisses, in his eyes.

Wanted to drown in what he was making her feel. She was lost. Lost in him and never wanting to come back again. Here was her master. Her lover. She belonged to him. And he to her. It must be! It would be! 

He groaned, deep and long, feeling her teeter on the brink. “That's it...oh my sweet girl...come to me. Come all for me." His hands slid down her body, resting on her hips, thrusting hard, then sliding softly around her, his fingers finding the place his tongue had been before.

Her cry ripped from her throat as her pleasure claimed her.

* * *

Her climax gripped him and he lost what was left of his reason, his self control. His body took over and he went at her with wild abandon. She was so perfect! And they were so perfectly matched! How could he have ever dreamed to find her so! They were of one mind...one heart beating between them. Their needs and desires satisfied one with the other almost at the speed of thought! Ohhh God it was good! She was good. She was so wet and so tight and so hot and fit him like a glove, taking and taking all he could give her, her beautiful bottom thrusting up at him...wanting even more.

"William! Oh God William!"

She was coming again!!

"Bloody hell--Victoria!" He roared out his climax against her back as she clamped down on him, the force of it shaking him in more ways than one, his seed exploding from him, pumping her full…

Trembling in every limb, they collapsed into a heap on the bed.

* * *

“Victoria?” He gathered her into his arms, cradling her against him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She smiled at the concern in his voice. “No,” she said with a smile. “Not in the slightest.”

“You’re so small,” he said protectively, curling his body around her. “And I can be such a brute.”

“You are not a brute, and you have just commented on my stature. Should I send you to the Tower as you once suggested?”

“Yes,” he said into her shoulder. “I deserve nothing less, Ma’am.”

She turned in his arms to face him, giggling. “I absolutely forbid you to feel remorse. When you have made me feel so glorious.” She kissed him until his eyes met hers, searched hers, and again he was so vulnerable. Like a lost little boy. “Do you expect me to remonstrate with you?” She said lightly, combing her fingers through his damp curls.

He huffed a laugh. “Perhaps I do. It certainly would be warranted.”

“Well I shall not. Unless it gives you the great pleasure it gives me when you do so with me,” she said, smacking his bottom lightly.

His eyebrows flew up and he smiled, considering. “We may have to try that sometime, Ma’am. I’ve never been on the receiving end before.”

“We will definitely have to try it, Lord M. But I prefer you call me Victoria. Or, barring that, Darling will do.”

His grin spread happily. “You still want me? When I have ravished you so shamefully?”

“Definitely.” She said, feeling herself smile. “You have done nothing I have not wished for. Except for a few things that I didn’t know I should wish for, or I most certainly would have.”

She was pleased to see him smile. “You truly enjoyed it? All of it?” He smoothed her hair behind her ear.

“Did my climax not convince you of that?” she whispered.

“Perhaps it did at the time. But now…”

She kissed him again. And it felt so good to do so. So good to be able to reach out to him when she liked, to press her lips against his, and feel him respond. She kissed him again and again, until she felt his doubt melt beneath the reassurance of her touch. To have such power over him! To feel what her hands did to him…her kisses…had it always been so? Oh, the pains he had taken to conceal his feelings from her! Finally…such barriers were no longer necessary between them. She reached for his lips again, caressing them lightly with her own, kissing him slowly, savoring.

“You know, if I ever do anything you do not like…you may tell me so. I will stop immediately.” He said against her cheek.

“You could never do anything I do not like,” she said with a sigh. “Every time you touch me, it is heaven itself. If I had known before what awaited me, I should never have taken no for an answer the night of my coronation.”

“You were still so young,” he said, his eyes soft with remembrance.

“Eighteen!”

“Eighteen, newly crowned and virginal. Did you really expect me to take you that night, Ma’am? I should have not done so tonight either,” He said with a sigh, stroking his hands up her arms lightly. “But I am extraordinarily weak where you are concerned.” He smiled ruefully into her eyes.

“Nothing about you is weak, my darling Lord M. You must know how I longed for you.”

“I did,” he smiled. “Your sweet, girlish longings were enough to break my heart.”

“You were so handsome,” she said, tracing a finger down his cheek. “The most handsome man I had ever seen. So handsome that night that my heart wept to behold you."

He smiled. “And you were quite adorably intoxicated.”

“Are you implying that is why I found you handsome?” She said in mock outrage.

“Such things have been known to occur before, Ma’am.” His eyes were alight with mischief. "Or perhaps the candlelight was playing tricks on your eyes that you beheld me so."

“It is fortunate for you indeed that I am well aware you are teasing me, Lord Melbourne,” she said. “Else I should be very cross with you for refusing to own how very handsome you are.”

“Well. Who indeed am I to argue with my Queen?” he smiled. “If you find me so pleasing, I can only thank you, and Heaven’s Provenance for making me so in your eyes.” He planted a kiss on her nose.

“How desperately I wished for you to kiss me,” she said, tracing his lips with her fingertip. “How cold and alone I was when I returned here. I held my pillow all night long, desperately wishing it was you.”

He stroked her face. “While I tried to drown myself in a bottle of brandy. Trying to erase the touch of your delicate hands upon me, the nearness of your body pressed against mine, and the feeling of you in my arms as we danced.”

“Oh my darling man,” she breathed, “What you must have suffered that night.”

"We both did." He smiled sadly, taking her fingertips into his hand and pressing his lips to them. "But it was necessary then."

“Never again, My William.”

There were tears in his eyes as he bent and kissed her sweetly. “No matter what shall befall us, or how things should end between us. My heart is yours. It has been from the beginning, and shall ever be.”

“You speak as though this were an ending, and not a beginning,” she said anxiously.

“It is an ending, of a sort. For things will never again be as they were.”

“But we will marry.”

“I hope for it,” he said, with tears in his eyes. “I long for it more than I could ever say.”

“It will be. It _must_ be!”

He lay his head against hers. “God willing, it will be. It is my only desire.”

“It will be, William. For we shall not accept any other course.” She backed away to gaze resolutely into his eyes, and saw the war between hope and despair that was waging there. She pulled him closer into her arms, kissing him hard, willing him to feel her determination.

There _was_ a future for them, for they would make it, together. They would forge it for themselves by their own will, fired by their love and devotion. Together, they would face them all, face them all and bend and hammer them until the world itself was suitably shaped to allow for them to be together. He would be her husband, her consort. She would walk in the open proudly on his arm. Take him to her bed every night. Every night would be like this one.

Victoria realized suddenly that she had rolled him onto his back and was now atop him, sitting astride his powerful hips. His sighs had turned to growls, and he was again hard and hot and ready beneath her, his hands on her bottom, urging her forward and back again, sliding himself against her body.

“Ride me,” he whispered, raising her up suddenly, and moaning so beautifully when she lowered herself onto him. “God in heaven! My love, my angel!” 

He raised her hips again, showing her how to move. She rose up again until he was nearly out of her all the way, then slowly sank onto him again, feeling him penetrate her inch by inch. He was glorious. How could he feel so good, so different, with every new experience?

His hips bucked beneath her as sounds of pure masculine pleasure came from him. His eyes were on her, dark and heavy-lidded. “Oh God Victoria, my Queen, my darling, darling girl…”

“You like me this way?” She ask as she came down on him, hard. He was so good. Soo good and so deep and she loved every moment of him moving in her.

How had she ever lived before? How had her existence ever been possible without this? How could she live without him now? She couldn’t! She wouldn’t! They would make a way! They had to! She had…to…have…him…inside her. Loving her forever...

* * *

He was entirely lost. Utterly and completely at her mercy. Her slight curvy body, so young, so nubile, so lithe, sliding up and down him, her back arched, her breasts jiggling when she came down, her eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open in abandon, her glorious hair streaming past her shoulders, riding and riding him, pleasuring herself with him--he’d never seen anything so erotic. She was a goddess. 

Had he ever had a lover who was so intuitive? So natural? So uninhibited? And what she did to him! His hunger for her was insatiable, as ravenous as her own. He devoured her with his eyes. His restless hands wanted to cover all of her. His mouth was hungry for her breasts…for her lips...

 _HIS_. She was his, damn it all! He would not give her up! Not as long as she wanted him! Ohh bloody, bloody hell, she was so tight! So deliciously wet! She wrapped him in such glorious warmth…

He bit his lip. _Wait._ Wait for her. She was close now. She was soo very close….

“Come to me, my Queen! My love! Come to me!”

* * *

It started in her toes. A high pitched cry that tore from her lips as her climax rocked her and rocked her. His hips thrust up madly against her, feeling her release, pushing him deep inside her, urging her on, his hands on her waist, holding her steady and keeping her rhythm as the earth gave way beneath them into stars. Before hers had finished, she felt his movements grow erratic, wild, desperate, and then he roared beneath her as his seed filled her again.

They were unstoppable! Meant to be! Meant to be…together! Like this…just like this forever!

“Ohhhh my GOD!!” She screamed, as another one, hot on the heels of the last, claimed her even harder, and a look at him beneath her, brought another still, until finally, with a squeak she fell boneless into his waiting arms.

“Lord M!” She said against his chest. “Oh my darling William! You will not let them part us, will you?”

His arms closed around her protectively.

“No,” he said against her hair. “No my love. A thousand times no. I swear to you I will never let you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand breathe. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, Readers!
> 
> Concluding chapter will be coming shortly. Hope you all enjoyed! You know I love your comments, if you care to leave them. :)


	10. It Had to Be You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Why do I do, just as you say?  
> Why must I just, give you your way?  
> Why do I sigh, why don't I try - to forget?  
> It must have been  
> That something lovers call fate  
> Kept me saying: "I have to wait"  
> I saw them all, just couldn't fall - 'til we met
> 
> It had to be you, it had to be you  
> I wandered around and finally found, that somebody who  
> Could make me be true  
> Could make me feel blue  
> And even be glad just to be sad, thinking of you
> 
> Some others I've seen  
> Might never be mean  
> Might never be cross, or try to be boss  
> But they wouldn't do
> 
> For nobody else gave me a thrill  
> With all your faults, I love you still  
> It had to be you, wonderful you  
> It had to be you ….”  
> (Frank Sinatra, 1979).

Chapter 10—It Had to Be You

When the faintest rays of morning broke through the draperies in Her Majesty’s bedchamber, it was to find Lord Melbourne already dressing himself. With the habits of one long accustomed to such amorous liasons, he had an instinctual understanding of when it was time to leave. And therefore with much regret, he kissed his darling girl farewell, and removed himself soundlessly from her chambers, making his way silently and unseen back to his cold and waiting, entirely too pristine chamber, where he again removed his clothing, stoked a small fire into existence and dived into his cold bedding with a smile. Dear God, what a night. What a woman. His body was buzzing with health, with life and vigor, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt wholly and completely satisfied, his heart filled to overflowing with the most naive and ridiculous joy. Still. Fatigue claimed him at last, so that in the end, it was in this state of sheer exhaustion that he at last succumbed to sleep. And when his servant arrived within the hour, it was to find Lord Melbourne soundly slumbering, looking for all the world as if he'd been there all night. 

“Breakfast is in one hour, My Lord,” the man said, stoking his fire. “Shall I bring a bath and a shaving kit?”

“Yes,” he said, yawning. “Both would be much appreciated, thank you.”

No, he thought, rubbing his eyes as the man left. Not much sleep to be had before facing today. But then, he was long accustomed to that, too. And this was for the best of all conceivable reasons. He therefore threw his covers back with a smile and began his preparations.

* * *

Skerrett was working hard to swallow her shock at the items that were presented to her for secret removal from the Queen’s bedchamber. An empty champagne bottle. An empty bottle of brandy. Two glasses, one still with brandy left in it. And worst and most damning of all…a pile of blood-stained rags, as well as a few discarded other articles.

It was clear that Her Majesty had not passed the night alone.

It was also clear who it had been who had spent the night with her—Lord Melbourne.

“I must rely upon your strictest confidence, Skerrett,” Her Majesty had said to her, eyes bright with conspiracy.

“Of course, Ma’am,” she said with well-schooled professionalism. “I will take care of these things personally. No one else will know.”

“Thank you, Skerrett,” the Queen had said with relief, and then smiled. “I would like you to be the first to know—Lord Melbourne and I are to be married. But it is still a secret at the moment. You must not tell a soul.”

Nancy felt her eyes bulge with shock. But also, she smiled. “Congratulations, Ma’am,” she said genuinely. “I’m very happy for you both. And you may rely upon me, Ma'am. I'm the soul of discretion.” It had long been her belief that Lord Melbourne and the Queen were very much in love, and that he was the best of all men. And clearly the best for Her Majesty. Better than some foreign prince, for sure. She was not ignorant of the difficulty that the Queen and her chosen consort would be facing, but she was pleased nonetheless. And it gave her happiness to be able to help the Queen in such an important way.

“Thank you, Skerrett.” The Queen said, and with a smile she could not hide embraced her as familiarly as if Skerrett had been a duchess. “Oh, I am so happy!” She said, beaming. “He is the very best of men, is he not?”

“He is, Ma’am,” Skerrett said, smiling too. “And very handsome too.” She bit her lip. Had she overstepped?

“Yes, oh yes the handsomest man in the world!”

She breathed a sigh of relief. The Queen was too happy to notice her outburst.

“I wish you every happiness together Ma’am,” she offered with sincerity.

“Thank you Skerrett.”

“I’ll take care of these things, and be back presently to help you dress.”

She left the queen, hoping against hope that she could conceal the evidence—and her own role in the conspiracy—well enough to warrant the Queen’s faith in her.

* * *

Baroness Lehzen eyed the Queen nervously as she appeared in the breakfast room. There were circles under her eyes, but she seemed to be in good health, and very good spirits. She frowned. She knew little of such matters. But there had been…noises…coming from the Queen’s rooms last night. Noises that concerned her. Especially since at one point she could have sworn one voice was male. And their interconnecting door was locked on the Queen’s side.

“Good morning to you, Lehzen!” The Queen said, taking both her hands and spinning her in a half circle. “And a very Happy New Year to you!”

“And to you, Your Majesty,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She swallowed her questions and misgivings. Looking into the face of her beloved charge, glowing as it was with happiness, she could not bring herself to mention it now. She would look for a time later instead. 

“I have decided something,” she said. “Skerrett has been a wonder. Look at how wonderfully she does my hair! I am very pleased with her services.”

“Good, Your Majesty!” The Baroness smiled. “I knew with her credentials she would be a suitable dresser.”

“You were very right. And I would like you to raise her salary by twenty percent.”

“TWENTY? But Majesty! Her salary would be too excessive! She would make more than Penge!”

“Then raise everyone else’s salary by ten. But twenty for Skerrett. She has earned it. And it is a new year, after all.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Lehzen said with a bow. She bit her lip. What was going on? Why was the Queen in such high spirits? And what would this announcement do to her own hold over the staff?

* * *

Lord Melbourne entered the breakfast room at the palace on New Year’s Day—bathed, shaven, and in a new set of freshly pressed clothes—looking for all the world as if nothing extraordinary had happened the night before at all. His eyes—as ever—searching the room for his Queen. He did not have long to look for her.

“Lord M!” she said, gliding towards him, a vision in royal purple. Their eyes met. And everything that had transpired the night before was shared again in a moment. He dropped to his knees before her and kissed her hand.

“Your Majesty,” he said, smoothly rising. “Good morning and Happy New Year, Ma’am.”

“Happy New Year to you too, Lord M.” She said, twirling her hands, her eyes bright. “Shall we eat? You must be starving.”

“I am, Ma’am, yes. I always am, in the morning.” He flashed her a look.

“Well. We must do something about that,” she said with an answering smile, instantly divining his meaning. “We cannot have you go hungry, after all.”

“No indeed.” He said, huskily.

* * *

The Duchess of Kent looked back and forth from her daughter to Lord Melbourne and frowned. They had been getting far too familiar lately. She did not like it. And she did not like the way the Prime Minister was gazing at her daughter. Nor the way her daughter was receiving his gaze. Then something flashed between them, something she could swear…but that could not be. He would never dare such.

She shook off the notion. No. It was preposterous. After all, what more could there be between them other than friendship? Anything further was inconceivable. Impossible.

Wasn’t it?

* * *

“Shall we make our announcement now?” Victoria whispered as her darling Lord M held out her chair for her to sit at the table.

“Not yet,” he whispered quickly, so close to her ear that the warm puff of his breath caressed it, and it, along with his soft voice which she so adored, sent chills up and down her spine.

She huffed her displeasure, and he cocked an eyebrow at her, ever so slightly, and flashed her the briefest of smiles, amusement alight in his eyes at her eagerness. It was so subtle and fleeting a gesture that no one else noticed it. At least—she had thought so. But when she lowered her glass it was to find her mother’s gimlet eye on her, cocking an eyebrow of her own in disapproval—and suspicion?

All the more reason to make an announcement soon, she thought with barely concealed patience. She turned her eyes from her mother dismissively. Lord M was sipping his coffee, and looking so smooth and collected that Victoria secretly marveled. Looking at him now, even she doubted what had transpired between them last night, and for a moment half believed she’d dreamed the whole of it. Only the slight soreness between her legs bore testament to the reality of their activities.

“I trust you slept well last night, Lord Melbourne?” her mother asked, raising her own teacup.

Victoria froze. Her mother seldom spoke to him, preferring to act as though he did not exist. But William met the Duchess's scrutiny with a show of absolutely unflappable innocence.

His eyebrows rose and he nodded, giving her mother a slight smile as if pleased that she had noticed him. “Perfectly well, Your Grace,” he said. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

“Well. I am sure that after such a long absence from home, you will be wishing to leave right after breakfast. Or perhaps you will have business with the House?”

“Parliament is on holiday for the moment, but we will no doubt meet again in a day or so. As it so happens, I do have business at Dover House later today.”

“But you will ride out with me this morning, will you not?” Victoria asked, feeding tidbits to Dash from her plate. “The weather is most beautiful.”

“Indeed it is, Ma’am. And bracing as well.”

“Drina. Lord Melbourne is a busy man. You have already kept him from his home overnight. He must have a great deal to do. You must be considerate.”

“Ah…on the contrary…Your Grace…there is nothing so pressing that I cannot indulge Her Majesty in escorting her on her morning ride. It is the new year, after all. And the exercise is beneficial.”

“Thank you, Lord M. And then I promise I will release you to accomplish those tasks which you find most needful.”

Her mother stewed over this, and as she buried her displeasure in her teacup, Victoria and William exchanged the briefest of smiles over her head.

There was much to discuss, after all.

* * *

And discuss it, they did.

As their mounts crunched through the frozen ground, Victoria and her Lord M discussed the situation at great length, and finally came up with a plan of action. They would announce their engagement in a fortnight’s time, during which Lord M would make preparations to leave Parliament, the Whig party and politics altogether, and during which time they would spend as much time together as possible. William expressed his desire to pursue a more traditional courtship, where he could be seen to pay his addresses, albeit discreetly, to give their critics and friends alike an opportunity to speculate and to object, and to acclimate themselves to their eventual union.

And difficult as she felt it would be, they also agreed that they would not resume the more intimate acts of their relationship until they could come together as man and wife. But, Victoria stipulated, this did not include kissing, which she absolutely could not live without. His lips, his embraces and his caresses had become as necessary to her well-being as his presence in her life had heretofore been, and with a chuckle and smile that was not in any way displeased, he accepted her terms.

* * *

The agreed-upon fortnight seemed interminable, but his continued presence by her side, his good humor, their happiness together and of course, many stolen kisses, made the time far more bearable. Their plan went beautifully. Saving the night, and his time in Parliament, the pair of them were practically inseparable, and their continued state of inexplicable felicity when in each other’s company did in fact give the world much to speculate upon. And though both of them separately received many stern warnings and dire predictions that such a state of affairs was unacceptable and could not continue unabated, nevertheless, they did.

When the night finally came for Victoria to announce to her family, as well as to her closest friends and courtiers, the news of her engagement, they were not entirely surprised. Their reception was mixed, with those for and against divided along predictable lines. Her mother wept, crying into a delicate lace hankie that she had ruined everything, while the odious Sir John spewed venom of the vilest kind at her until William had been obliged to step between them and put him in his place with a few carefully chosen words, and Victoria had dismissed him from the room.

Their friends of course, rejoiced. Emma and Harriet had congratulated her with tears in their eyes. Harriet’s husband however, the Duke of Sutherland, had taken on a more worried countenance, and Victoria had seen him conferring in low tones with William in the corner. The following morning, they faced even more scrutiny when announcing their engagement to the Privy Council, simultaneously with the announcement of William’s stepping down as Prime Minister and his immediate withdraw from political life.

The Tories were, of course, their strongest critics. But in the end, as Victoria immediately acknowledged a Tory government with Sir Robert Peel at the helm, accepting into her court ladies of a Tory persuasion, many among their ranks—the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel among them—became inclined to take a more philosophical view. They were, after all, just handed the government on a platter, with the former Whig Prime Minister removed from power—this time, permanently. It seemed almost a gift from Providence.

The marriage of course, would have to be Morganatic. But all in all, they had been saved the issue of a foreign princeling at the heart of things. Melbourne wasn’t ideal, but he also wasn’t German, nor a Papist, and not like to become one. His own purse was fat enough and he was at least an Englishman and a Lord. But there seemed little anyone was willing to do about it, in any case. The Queen was determined and Melbourne quite obviously was more than willing. The country had precious few options for her replacement and none of them to anyone’s liking. Therefore it came to pass that these wiser heads among them found themselves advocating for acceptance, and eventually, the Privy Council approved the match.

The public was much divided over the topic, and both sides vehemently opposed to the other. But even those who argued heatedly against the match did not favor replacing the Queen. She was young, true, and had doubtless been molded by the conniving former Prime Minister for just this event. But even so, they could think of no one they would rather have.

Cumberland himself did quite a lot of campaigning for his own ascension, but the louder he shouted the less anyone heeded him, and his few supporters were inevitably drowned out by their opposition. It seemed undeniably true, what Melbourne had told Cumberland once before—that the one sure thing guaranteed to bring the country together in support of the queen was the proposition of being ruled by him instead.

And therefore, the people eventually accepted their queen’s unorthodox choice as well.

While the debates raged inside her own borders, and the shock waves rolled throughout the throne rooms, and fashionable salons and parlours of Europe, Victoria set about her wedding preparations as if there were no obstacles at all. They had determined their engagement would not be prolonged for a variety of reasons. Therefore the preparations were underway as soon as the Privy Council, shaking their aged heads, had given their approval.

Not even the sudden, unwelcome and unexpected appearance of her Uncle Leopold could dampen her spirits. And though he shadowed her from room to room, and bored her silly expounding upon the great virtues of her wooden cousin, Albert, and the folly of her intended bridegroom, she would not be moved. And when she'd had her fill of him, would merely dismiss him from her presence. It especially gave her great pleasure to do so upon William's entering the room, so that she was treated to the sight of her uncle's red face and swallowed choler every time he passed by her former Prime Minister on his way out. 

"You are most fierce, my dearest," William said to her, chuckling upon one such dismissal. "It was so true, you know, what I said to you that day."

"What day?"

"The very _first_ time I found myself standing in your bedchamber...Ma'am," he whispered, stepping into her space, whispering in her ear. "You are every inch a Queen."

"If I am," she said, gazing happily into his evergreen eyes. "It is because you have made me so, my darling Lord M." 

"No," he said, nuzzling her hair, taking her into his arms. "I had nothing to do with it. I simply encouraged you to embrace your destiny and become the Queen you were always meant to be."

"I cannot permit it, you know. You downplay your role most shamefully. You did far more than that. As I think you know well."

"You always have my permission to exaggerate my exploits to your heart's content, My Love." He kissed the shell of her ear.

"Indeed I do not exaggerate!" she giggled. "For shame, William, to tease me so!"

"I do not tease you. And your overpraise of me is always much appreciated," he said, caressing her cheek lightly and smiling into her eyes. "For as you know, I'm very susceptible to flattery. Particularly yours."

* * *

So it came to pass that in less than two months’ time from their fateful celebrations on the night of the new year, William Lamb found himself dressed in the Windsor Uniform, standing before the Archbishop of Canterbury, alongside the most beautiful, exciting and remarkable woman he had ever known, pledging himself to be her husband henceforth, and unable to stop himself smiling as she gave him the same vow in a loud, steady and decisive voice. And when he leaned down to kiss her, he thought how strange it was that he should do so when before the eyes of God and all. Strange to think she was his by right now. That he was secure of her. That for the first time he did not have to look upon her with the dreadful knowledge that in the near future another man would appear suddenly and steal her away from him.

It was more happiness, he thought as he released her and smiled into her eyes, than he could ever deserve in his lifetime.

And later—much later—that night, when he again lay in what was now their lawful, wedded bed, sated and replete, with Victoria cuddled up next to him, her soft little breasts pressing against his chest, her silky skin beneath his fingertips as he idly traced them up and down her arm, he could not but marvel.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He smiled, kissing the top of her head.

“Oh. I was just relishing the thought of tomorrow morning’s breakfast.”

“What? Why?” She sat up and looked at him. 

“Because I shall finally be able to tell Sir John Conroy to go to the devil. And he will be obliged to bow and scrape and do just that.”

“Is that why you married me? So you could bid Sir John to go to the devil?” She asked, amused.

“Well. Perhaps not entirely,” he said. “My proximity to your very fine breakfast spread is also far more convenient from your rooms than mine. I admit the idea had more merit as a result."

They looked at each other and sputtered with mirth.

“You are a terrible liar!”

“No. As a matter of fact, I am a very good liar. When I truly wish to lie. Ma’am.” He kissed her nose.

“I am not ‘Ma’am’ to you any more. I am your wife now.”

He grinned at her happily. “Yes. You are. My darling wife. For which I am very grateful.” His eyes sparkled at her with mischief. 

“Oh? And just how grateful are you, my Lord Melbourne?” She asked, biting her lip.

“Minx,” he whispered. “Come here, and let me show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are. Happily ever after! 
> 
> It has been a joy to write this. I love them so much together, it's hard to say goodbye. Thanks everyone for reading and for all the comments as well.


End file.
